Holding My Breath
by Marzipan77
Summary: Season 5 Daniel begins to disappear from team interactions leading to feelings of failure. During "Summit" and "Last Stand," why did SG-1 stand by quietly while he went off alone on such a dangerous mission? Why didn't they care? Why didn't he?
1. Chapter 1

Before Ren'al's Arrival

Daniel lifted the barbell back to its rest, pushing past the tremors that he could feel crawl up and down the muscles of his arms. The metal bar clunked awkwardly into position and he worried for a moment that his jerky movements would bounce it right off its perch to slam down on him before a pair of large dark hands reached out to steady the weight. Breathing heavily, he rose from the flat bench and retrieved the towel he'd hung nearby to sop up some of the sweat from his face and neck. He snatched the glasses held out by his teammate and settled them onto his face as he nodded his thanks. Teal'c began adding plates to raise the weight from the archaeologist's respectable 180 lbs to double that and Daniel caught the eye of Major Mansfield who was just finishing his own set. As the Jaffa took his position on the bench and reached up to grasp the barbell, the two men moved to the head of the bench to spot him.

"Thanks," Daniel muttered, shifting his eyes momentarily towards the taciturn airman before turning them back towards his friend.

Mansfield shrugged. "No problem." His sharp eyes glanced between the two men, wondering if he'd ever seen a more dissimilar work-out team. "Do you guys usually spot for each other?" he couldn't help asking. He'd just returned from a rotation to the Alpha Site as 2IC to Colonel Dekker to take command of the newest SG team, but he'd been bouncing around the SGC long before that, filling in for injured members of various teams. He'd seen both guys in here before – everyone recognized the members of SG-1 – but thought the big Jaffa and Colonel O'Neill usually paired up, leaving the two scientists on the team to their less strenuous workout. By the look of Jackson's build, a few things had changed since Mansfield was a regular at the SGC gym.

"Ah…" Daniel swiped at a trickle of sweat that was dripping down his temple, "about six months or so, I guess." He pulled the sweat-soaked undershirt away from his chest to try to move some air over his skin.

"Indeed," Teal'c added easily, the smooth repetitions seemingly taking up little of his concentration, "since my experiences during the Rite of M'al Sharran. I found Daniel Jackson to be a more… calming… companion than O'Neill." Setting the bar to rest in its brackets for a moment before beginning another set, the Jaffa held Jackson's gaze.

"Only because I'm usually too beat to maintain a running commentary like Jack does," Daniel snorted, looking away.

"I believe that is what I said," Teal'c agreed, taking the strain of the weights once more.

It might have been his imagination, but Mansfield caught an undercurrent of irritation as they joked about their team leader and the 2IC of Stargate Command. _Trouble in SG-1 paradise?_ he wondered. Well, it was bound to happen sometime. That team had been close-knit since day-one, mismatched, uneven, _diverse_, the officer smirked to himself, but extremely loyal and devoted to each other. He knew it wouldn't last. Let teammates get too close and they lose all objectivity, Mansfield thought to himself. He glanced around the gym at the members of his new team. _Won't find me making the same mistake._

When the Jaffa had completed his reps and the Air Force officer left to continue his workout, Daniel and Teal'c moved towards a couple of decline benches for crunches to finish up. Teal'c was pleased that his quiet encouragement led his friend to challenge himself through an extra set despite the young man's groans of protest. Afterwards Daniel gratefully grasped the outstretched hand and used it to haul himself to a standing position, allowing Teal'c to steady him for an instant before he found his equilibrium again.

Having grown used to the routine over the past few months, Daniel and Teal'c headed to the locker room to shower and dress before trudging to the commissary for lunch. With three new SG teams commissioned within the past week, the room was full of the dull roar of many voices, mostly male, and Daniel winced at the sound as the two managed to find a pair of chairs at a table farthest from the chow line. Daniel let his gaze wander through the crowd of blue and green fatigues, noticing the overabundance of marines and the scarcity of civilian consultants among the back-slapping military types. He was not surprised to find that the trend continued.

The shaggy blond head that twisted around at the door before looking their way was a surprise, and Daniel smiled a welcome at Sam as she waved before hurrying off to get a tray. He caught Teal'c's eye and gestured with his chin at the now empty chair to the Jaffa's left, not willing to raise his voice above the din. Adept at reading his teammate's unspoken request, Teal'c dragged the metal chair towards him with one ankle and deposited his dish of red jello on the table in front of it to reserve the spot, quickly retrieving it when Sam's tray slid into position.

"Hey, guys," she smiled, looking hungrily at the dessert before Teal'c moved it out of her reach. She flopped into the chair with a heavy sigh and darted a frown at the loud party of marines across the table.

"You sound tired, Sam," Daniel observed when the noise died down for a moment.

She nodded. "The labs are a mess," she mumbled around a bite of lemon chicken. "Between the tests we've been doing on the remains of the Russian DHD and what information we managed to scrounge from our dealings with the Aschen and the Tollans," she swallowed past a sudden icy plunge of sorrow and pushed on, "we've suddenly got more science than scientists." The dark circles under her eyes spoke more about her struggles to hold herself together in the wake of their past several missions than in a lack of research time.

Daniel lowered his eyes towards his own plate and forced himself to take another bite. While he'd never begrudge his teammate the new technologies and insights that were being revealed every day lately, he missed the days when his own labs were just as busy. During the first two or three years of the program he'd had to be dragged kicking and screaming from his office to work out, or spar, or take part in any of the other military-type training that Jack insisted upon for a member of his team. Now, he welcomed the distraction. He used to feel the weight of the backlog of translations and artifacts awaiting him after the end of every mission as a sword of Damocles that was waiting to fall; at this point he realized that, with the SGC's new focus on weapon procurement and political strategy, that backlog was dwindling. And the relaxed atmosphere that was pervading the archaeology and linguistic labs was not bringing with it the sense of peace and freedom he expected, but the growing dread that that backlog had actually represented something completely different: job security.

"Is O'Neill still in conference with General Hammond?" Teal'c's low rumble muscled through the background noise.

Sam shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "I guess. I haven't seen him since the briefing this morning." Daniel raised his eyes to watch the emotions play across her face that she kept carefully lowered. She felt his scrutiny and met his gaze. "I know he and the general are getting pretty frustrated by these constant requests for briefings from the Pentagon."

Daniel kept his expression carefully neutral but cringed inwardly, knowing that the repercussions from his warp-speed negotiations with the Russian government to save Teal'c from destruction within the collapsed wormhole were falling heavily on the leadership of Stargate Command.

"It isn't just because of your negotiations, Daniel," Samantha Carter insisted. "McKay's report on some of the 'shortcuts' I've taken with the Stargate over the years has stirred up a hornet's nest. Combine that with the failure of the Aschen negotiations as well as the colonel's exposition of Simmons' involvement with the Goa'uld and everyone is starting to realize that things have to change."

A low grunt swung Sam and Daniel's heads towards their less vocal friend. "Don't blame yourself, Teal'c," Daniel said quickly, face intent. "I wouldn't change anything, and I'm sure Sam, Jack, and the general feel the same way."

"And yet, my friends have once again found themselves at risk on my behalf," he replied. Once Teal'c had processed the deep satisfaction that came with the death of Tanith at his hands, he realized the lengths his teammates had gone to to retrieve him.

"We're not 'at risk,' Teal'c," Sam countered, missing the skeptical raise of Daniel's eyebrows as she locked eyes with the Jaffa seated next to her. "Things are just… complicated right now."

"I believe things have been complicated, Major Carter, for quite some time," the Jaffa replied softly. "Your government's involvement in the Stargate program and in the missions of SG-1 and other teams has become more direct of late, more urgent."

Daniel felt himself starting to nod – he and Teal'c had had these conversations on and off over the past few months, about the change in the feel of the base, the nature of their missions, and the functionality of the team itself. As Sam rehashed the same tired rhetoric about primary missions and the need for tangible results and weapons to protect Earth, he could hear her trying to convince herself. He knew Teal'c shared his own disquiet – they both felt the awkwardness of their positions outside the military establishment: they were quickly becoming the only two non-ranked members of any active SG team.

But it was more than that. He let his gaze wander over the familiar and unfamiliar faces seated around him. Masterman was a geologist and a lieutenant. Sgt. Armstrong was a medic. Foscarelli did double duty as 2IC of SG-4 and engineer. So many of the new scientists on the base were experienced military men and women who specialized in some area of science while pursuing a career in the Air Force or Marines. Skilled in combat, schooled in tactics, and proficient in his or her own field as well. Daniel's searching blue eyes returned to his companions. Teal'c was a recognized expert on Goa'uld tactics, a weapons specialist, and had more information about the state of the galaxy than any other person on the base. And everyone respected Sam's unmatched ability to understand and utilize alien technology almost instantly. He frowned and placed his fork carefully on his plate. What the heck was a civilian linguist/archaeologist doing here?

"I'll see you guys later," he muttered, sliding his chair back and grabbing his tray. He found his left wrist trapped in Teal'c's grasp and looked up into his friend's concerned face.

"Daniel Jackson."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam's confused reaction, her head swiveling between her teammates. "I'm fine, Teal'c. I've got to prepare for the orientation this afternoon." The Jaffa's one raised eyebrow let Daniel know that Teal'c would accept that explanation for his hasty departure – but only for now, and in front of their teammate. Daniel smiled in gratitude and headed out, making his solitary path between groups of airmen and marines.

Sam leaned towards Teal'c to make herself heard as her eyes watched the archaeologist's figure get swallowed up by the mob at the commissary doors. "Does Jack still have Daniel doing the primer for the new SG teams? I know how Daniel hates standing up in front of a roomful of military types to try to teach basic first contact protocols, especially when he could be working on translations – is that why he's upset?"

Teal'c hesitated, wondering how much of his friend's unrest he was at liberty to reveal. "I do not believe that Daniel Jackson is _upset_, Major Carter." He allowed the growl in his voice to communicate his dissatisfaction with the word. "I do not believe his concern, however," he corrected her, "has to do with this assignment from O'Neill." He raised troubled eyes to his teammate.

"Well," Sam quickly finished her meal and gulped her diet soda before brushing a napkin against her mouth, "I've got to get back to the lab. The blueprints for the ion cannons that the Tollans gave us before –" she stopped herself abruptly. "Just the knowledge that this technology is possible," she began again after a deep breath, "has been a huge help." Her own expression had darkened for a moment before she could will herself back into scientist mode. She absently placed one hand on Teal'c's shoulder as she turned, more intent on getting away before she lost the fragile grip she had on her emotions. "Maybe we could drag Daniel and Col. O'Neill out for pizza later – what do you think? It's been a while."

Sam hurried off before Teal'c could respond. "Indeed it has," he murmured.

~---~

Daniel turned the corner into his office and dropped his files onto one of the metal tables, watching as the slick photographs slipped out of the folders and spread themselves across the clean, shining surface. His gaze traveled along the empty expanse as details of the afternoon briefing with the new SG teams sped away from his thoughts, leaving him with the same sense of dread and emptiness that had become so familiar to him. Slipping behind his desk, Daniel fell into his chair and let his head drop into his hands.

Who knew that addressing first contact experiences with the newly formed SG teams would bring up so many unresolved issues in his own mind? Even as he spoke, emphasizing caution and humility, reinforcing warning signs of ongoing Goa'uld influence in off-world cultures and subterfuge by less than friendly natives, his mind whirled with doubt as he heard Jack's voice reverberate with sarcasm and anger. The Standard Operating Procedures of off-world teams encountering new cultures had been a work in progress for Daniel and his team of anthropologists since the beginning of the program, and, now that they finally had a workable sketch of do's and don'ts the rules seemed to be unimportant. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. If the front-line team leader didn't feel compelled to listen to his own supposed expert – the guy who literally wrote the book – then why should any of the other SG teams?

The Eurondans. The Gadmeer. Old wounds and Daniel had really gotten past those, he insisted to himself. Jack's mind would always run to the black and white – the good guy v. the bad guy – allies and enemies, those were the only possibilities. Trust in his teammate wasn't the issue. He felt the tight grip he'd taken around his own chest and smirked at himself. _Gotten past it. Right._ Jack taking the lead role in their discussions with the people of K'tau, and freezing Daniel out of the situation with the Ascended being Orlin and with the talks with the Aschen had effectively ripped at those scars. Daniel knew he'd taken a step back since then on missions – several steps back, actually, which made it that much harder for Jack to listen to him when he did put himself forward and insist on something. He'd gotten out of the habit of asking for Daniel's input, and so relegated Daniel to the background. That's really why he and Teal'c had started seeking out each other's company – Teal'c was in the same boat.

These past few briefings had felt more like he was passing off his responsibilities than that he was sharing any expertise. Handing over the reins. Educating the next generation, he chuckled to himself, considering that he was still younger than most of the other people on base.

Seasons change, he reminded himself. Just like the weather in Colorado Springs, the climate of the SGC was changing and the military machine was slowly but surely absorbing the roles of the civilian consultants, just as the goal of Stargate travel had turned from exploration and discovery to appeasement of those who controlled the purse strings of government. And as fewer artifacts made their way back through the Stargate, and more mines and off-world trade opportunities were established, the American military felt more comfortable. Why else would Jack have –

Daniel cut off that train of thought abruptly. He knew Jack's stress level had never been higher. He felt every loss of life as if he had been personally responsible. The mistakes that had been made in recent months, the destruction of the Tollan world, the sacrifice of Ambassador Faxon, the threatened loss of two of his close friends and team members – all of these weighed heavily on Jack O'Neill's mind. He had no patience with the flagrant self-serving stupidity of Kinsey and his type, but he had no choice, now, but to accede to the government's demands, and to assimilate both the outside observers that the Pentagon was sending and the full-time Russian team that had been one of Daniel's suggestions during the recent negotiations. That didn't exactly help the situation.

He surged out of his chair and paced. "C'mon, Jackson," his inner voice insisted, "use that brilliant mind for something other than a repository of failures. How about figuring out a solution?" The Tollan were out – their Stargate had been destroyed and nothing had been heard from them since Narim's last transmission. He had no reason to believe that the Ascended beings would be of any further help since their interaction with Orlin. About the only allies they had left were the Asgard, who seemed to adopt a "don't call us, we'll call you" mentality, the Nox, who were adamantly opposed to anything having to do with weapons, even in defense of billions of innocent people, and the Tok'ra who had been less than friendly of late, or ever, actually.

They needed something big – no, something _huge_ – something to shut up their critics in Washington, to give General Hammond and Jack some breathing room, and to light the fire of exploration and optimism within the browbeaten SG teams. Maybe if he talked to the Nox again, or tried to get back into touch with Shifu. Maybe the Goa'uld knowledge he'd rejected wasn't as dangerous as he'd believed. He found himself standing once again at his desk, hands clenched into fists on its metal surface, tension constricting his muscles painfully. Dammit. Daniel forced himself to breathe, to relax one muscle group at a time until he slumped back into his chair again. This wasn't about him – he could not selfishly insist that the answer was his to imagine, or that his role in any far-reaching mission would be more than a supporting one. This was about defeating the enemy, continuing the Stargate program whether Daniel Jackson still had a place in it or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Summit – Ren'Al's Arrival

That SG-1 just happened to be in the Control Room when the Tok'ra called was an odd coincidence – they hadn't spent more than a few minutes in the same room with each other for more than two weeks. Longer than that, actually, Daniel realized, thinking back to the mission that had trapped Teal'c in the wormhole and sent Jack, Sam, and himself off on three very separate efforts to rescue their friend. That drawn look on Jack's face, the uneasy smirk that hovered around his mouth, were enough to let Daniel know that the SGC was still being scrutinized by the powers that be, whoever they were at the moment. Or that he was pissed. Probably both.

"Receiving IDC transmission, sir. It's the Tok'ra."

The technician's words didn't exactly dissolve the tension in the air, but the team was quick to follow General Hammond down to the 'gate room after his command to open the iris to welcome their erstwhile allies. Daniel chanced a quick look at Sam as Ren'Al exited the event horizon – he knew that the Tok'ra council had been dodging her questions about Lantash – Martouf's symbiote – since the host was killed nearly a year ago, and that every time Sam made an attempt to find out more she had been stonewalled. If Daniel had been the unacknowledged whipping boy of the SGC during the first few years of the program's existence, Sam was rapidly catching up, he thought sourly. The past year had been hell for his teammate.

"Your father Jacob sends his regards," the Tok'ra woman commented gently and Daniel wondered at the implied apology in her words.

Sam blinked. "How is he?"

"On a mission at the moment, which is why I am here," Ren'Al offered with a slight bow, acknowledging that SG-1's semi-friendly association with the Tok'ra had more to do with Jacob Carter's blending with Selmac than with any real sense of mutual respect. "There is a serious situation developing regarding the System Lords."

As the general ushered their guest towards the briefing room with Sam and Teal'c, Daniel hesitated at Jack's side at the base of the ramp. He let himself wonder if this "serious situation" could be the answer they'd all been looking for – or if it would at least offer a convenient distraction from the political wrangling that did nothing to reduce the number of Jack's grey hairs. A snarky comment from the Air Force officer startled him and Daniel found himself at a loss for words. Was that just weariness that underlay Jack's remark, or had it been an actual attempt to reach out in friendship? As Jack walked off, hands in his pockets, Daniel realized he probably wouldn't recognize that kind of gesture from his one-time best friend any more. He hurried to catch up.

Ren'Al's explanation of the upcoming Goa'uld summit of System Lords and the opportunity to cripple the entire Goa'uld hierarchy was met with more wariness – Jack was clearly on the same page as Daniel – at least for a moment – sarcastically welcoming the Tok'ra to the "dark side" while imagining the defeat of the entire Goa'uld leadership just by planting some C4 at the upcoming summit. Naturally, nothing the Tok'ra were involved with could be that simple.

"This has always been a part of our long-term plan," Ren'Al assured them all. "We just weren't quite prepared for the opportunity to present itself so quickly."

As usual, Jack was the first to cut to the chase. "Okay. Let's hear it." Daniel saw how his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Every System Lord in attendance will be permitted to bring one human slave." And suddenly Daniel felt the heat rise in his cheeks as his stomach clenched. _What? Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?_

"Specifically, we need someone who speaks fluent Goa'uld. Someone who is not Jaffa." Okay, maybe she was. "If you agree to participate, we ask that you come to our base on Revanna tomorrow. Jacob will be there – he will tell you all that you need to know." The strange distorted voice sent chills up and down Daniel's spine as he looked from side to side while managing to avoid eye contact with each person at the table. "It is up to you, Doctor Jackson."

_What?_

Reaching into a pocket in the front of her tunic, she withdrew a sheaf of papers covered with notes scrawled in the Goa'uld tongue. Daniel watched his hand automatically reach out to take them from her grasp.

"These are Selmac's notes on the current breakdown of the System Lords and their relevant histories. I suggest you familiarize yourself with them immediately."

"Um," Daniel's brain hadn't quite caught up to her rapid-fire briefing – emphasis on brief.

"Are you suggesting that we send Dr. Jackson into a conference of all of the high ranking Goa'uld System Lords, alone, disguised as a human slave to plant a bomb to destroy them?" General Hammond's voice projected utter bewilderment.

Not one muscle in Ren'Al's face twitched at his tone. "Not a bomb, but something just as deadly to the Goa'uld," she explained patiently, as if she were addressing a group of very dense children. "I cannot speak of it here, but on Revanna…"

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupted. "My father knows about this plan?" Her emphasis on the last word made her feelings about such a plan – and the woman who proposed it - obvious.

"Jacob and Selmac originally proposed it to the Tok'ra council," Ren'Al answered, seemingly unconcerned. The silence that descended on the conference room as the members of SG-1 and General Hammond exchanged glances – everyone but Daniel, who was frowning at the papers clutched in his hands where they rested on the mahogany table – surprised her. "I am sorry – the Tok'ra were under the impression that the Taur'i were determined to eliminate the Goa'uld threat in this galaxy."

"The Tok'ra were correct," Teal'c replied steadily.

A slight frown appeared between Ren'Al's brows. "Then I do not understand your hesitation to undertake such a plan which brings little risk and yet accomplishes all we might hope."

"'Little -" Jack's whispered comment was cut off.

"We will supply more information about the details tomorrow," she insisted, "but I am expected back immediately." The slight woman bowed her head for a moment. When she raised it again, she spoke in a clear alto voice, with no sign of her symbiote's distortion. She stared at the lowered head of the human scientist. "Please, Dr. Jackson." Daniel's head snapped up as she uttered her first impassioned words. "You must understand that we would not ask… that the Tok'ra only ask what they themselves would do in your place."

That too familiar feeling of emptiness opened wider within him as if hungry for his response. Daniel searched the woman's eyes and found an intensity that he hadn't noticed in his own reflection for over a year. He remembered the feelings that went with that look –passion, fervor – and he longed to feel that again. Finally, he drew his gaze away from hers to reach for a connection with his friends. Teal'c's calm expression reflected a kind of solid concern, while Sam's face was pinched, still too pale, and her were wide with surprise and confusion. General Hammond had pursed his lips in deliberation and stared at the Tok'ra as if his very silence could get her to reveal her secrets. And Jack – what was that behind Jack's hooded stare? Calculation? Dismissal? Suddenly Daniel was cold.

Hammond stood and Jack and Sam scrambled to their feet. "Thank you, Ren'Al," he said. "We'll be in contact with you shortly with our answer."

With another bending of her neck, the symbiote was in control again. "The Tok'ra council looks forward to your answer, General Hammond," she replied and, at a gesture from the commander of the SGC she preceded him to the stairs.

As the general made to descend he looked over at the silent figures ranged around the conference table, each surrounded by his or her own pool of stillness; no fidgeting fingers, whispered jokes, or communicative gestures. "SG-1, you're dismissed. Colonel, my office."

Notes firmly in hand, Daniel hurried from the room before any of his teammates thought to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

After Ren'Al's Departure

"Have a seat, Jack." General Hammond nudged the door to his office with one shoulder before waving his 2IC to the empty chair as he moved around his desk to drop into his own. He scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath noisily. "If that wasn't the damnedest…" He shook his head, unable to continue.

"Yes, sir." Jack couldn't think of any other response. After weeks – months – of dealing with some of the most FUBAR missions he'd ever had the misfortune of being associated with, the Tok'ra – the damned Tok'ra! – come and drop this can of snakes into their laps. Almost literally, it seemed.

"If Jacob Carter weren't behind this, I'd seriously wonder if we weren't being set up for something decidedly unpleasant, Colonel."

Jack squirmed, his ass having become all too familiar with the feel of this particular chair over the past couple of weeks. "Well, sir, it's not like I don't love the Tok'ra," he began, his open sarcasm bringing a brief smile to Hammond's face, "but until I hear about this little mission from Jacob's own mouth…" he didn't bother to finish the thought.

Hammond nodded. "But if this intel is viable, well," his hands opened and closed on his desk, "one surgical strike could take out all of the major Goa'uld players – all of them. Hell, Jack, after five long years of heavy losses -"

"– and an occasional massive win, sir," Jack inserted smoothly.

"- we could be looking at the end of the Goa'uld threat in this entire galaxy."

The silence stretched for long moments as Jack chewed over the completely unexpected events of the last ten minutes. His sight turned inward and he rewound his mental tapes to replay each word and gesture, paying more attention than he had in the heat of the moment. It was no wonder that Hammond was excited – this was a wet dream come true – a way to wipe out Earth's greatest threat and a magic wand to make all of the incessant justifications for the program go poof. "Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say, General?" he finally remarked.

Hammond harrumphed. "I was just going to say the same thing, Jack."

"Amazing how the Tok'ra come along with this plan, a plan that is so unlike their usual crap, I've got to say, right when we need something positive to show for the existence of the program." Jack sank further into the chair, running one hand through his short graying hair. "Funny how the only guy they can think of to put undercover in the midst of a whole boatload of Goa'uld System Lords is our own Daniel Jackson."

The flash Hammond noticed in his 2IC's dark eyes wasn't amusement. He leaned forward. "What do you suspect, Jack?"

"Who me, General?" Jack made an attempt at innocence. "I am the picture of faith and trust when it comes to our buddies the Tok'ra. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Colonel…" Hammond's tone drew Jack O'Neill up from his slumped posture as if his strings had been yanked.

"All I'm saying is, these Tok'ra, they don't make plans like we do, sir." His words came faster now, with more bitterness. "These guys can out Black Ops our Black Ops any day of the week. You remember Shan'uac and Tanith, don't you? They led us along by our noses that whole time knowing full well that she hadn't talked that slimy snake into anything. Hell, they've been stringing Carter along for months about the situation with Lantash, and let's not forget those pesky armband thingies."

Hammond waited patiently for his 2IC to put it together – that was one of Colonel Jack O'Neill's greatest strengths: his ability to threat assess with little information. He interlinked his fingers and nodded for Jack to continue.

"The Tok'ra have never given us anything remotely useful, sir," Jack sputtered, all of the suppressed tension from months of screwed up missions erupting from his throat harshly. "We've got this crazy treaty that Daniel drew up saying how we're all going to play nice and share intel, but what exactly have they done for us?" He lurched to his feet and began pacing within the small confines of Hammond's office, his voice rising to match his posture. "They may not be Goa'uld, but they are still arrogant, sanctimonious pricks who think they own this fight, and they always will." He turned abruptly to face the man across the desk. "Why the hell would they read us in to this kind of go-for-broke, no-holds-barred mission? And," he thrust one pointed finger at the slightly ajar office door, "why would they insist that they couldn't do it without _Daniel, _of all people_._"

Hammond's eyebrows drew down at the unconcealed contempt in the colonel's voice. So he hadn't been imagining it: SG-1 was in trouble. He'd tried to ignore the way Daniel Jackson had been retreating – physically and verbally – from the team for months now; he'd tried to take the changes in the young man's attitude as normal signs of growth and maturity, as the kind of vital hardening a soldier on a combat team needed in order to survive. He'd tried to find the humor in Jack O'Neill's more frequent cutting remarks – remarks that had once been tempered by friendship and an almost fatherly affection, and the proper detachment of an Air Force CO in his fiery impatience at Dr. Jackson's more creative ideas and contributions. George Hammond felt a sense of utter fatigue drag at him and let his eyes close for just a moment. When he spoke, his voice was cautiously muted.

"And you can't see any reason for the Tok'ra to assume Dr. Jackson would be successful in an operation like this one." George couldn't quite manage a questioning inflection at the end of the sentence since he was already painfully aware of Jack's likely response.

"_Daniel?_ You've got to be kidding, uh, sir." Jack hastily added the honorific when he heard the outrage in his own voice. "He's exactly the wrong person to send into a situation like this one."

"Why is that, Colonel O'Neill?" General Hammond let a trace of steel undergird his question.

Jack's eyebrows quirked in astonishment. "C'mon, sir, the Tok'ra want to send Daniel Jackson, 'the great negotiator,' into a room full of Goa'uld to blow them to kingdom come? Yeah," he laughed rudely, "_that's_ gonna happen."

Hammond's tone dropped another few degrees. "You don't think he's capable of carrying out a mission like this, Jack? Or is it that you don't think Dr. Jackson has the guts to see it through?"

After a moment his commanding officer's harsh whisper registered and Jack looked up in surprise. "He's not incapable, exactly, sir," he finally insisted, nervous movements stilled as he faced the general's desk. "The point is, Dr. Daniel Jackson wouldn't be caught dead agreeing to do something like this."

Each officer studied the other for a long moment, eyes intent, searching for meaning beneath the facades that had been designed to give nothing away and had been honed to near perfection by their life-long military careers. Uncomfortable with Hammond's weighing stare and his own tone of voice, Jack took a few steps to his right and pushed the office door until it closed with a thunk. Both hands now strafed through his hair and moved down to rub his eyes before he managed to get a grip on his emotions and turn back to the general, his movements concealing the retreat of the quiet figure that had been standing just out of sight in the corridor, eyes glued to the scene playing out through the office window.

"Just what are you saying, Jack? It wasn't that long ago that you were arguing, quite forcefully, to keep a certain civilian scientist on the front-line team of the SGC," Hammond reminded the colonel. "I, for one, would like to know what has changed so much for you to dismiss Dr. Jackson's value to this program, or to such a vital mission." He waited, but O'Neill remained half-turned away, eyes narrowing as his hands dropped to his sides.

Suddenly Jack's fierce dark gaze was locked onto the general's, pinning him to his chair as if Jack was desperate to communicate something to his CO that he only barely understood himself. "Yeah, Daniel's only slightly less dedicated to seeing the Goa'uld defeated than Teal'c is, and we both know he'd gladly strangle the lot of them. I'm just saying that Daniel's approach has always been violence only as a last resort – he'd rather talk his way to a solution even when the other guy has a gun to our collective heads." Another humorless chuckle escaped before Jack pressed his lips together. "There's plenty of precedent, sir."

_And he's saved your butt and this planet more than once, Colonel,_ Hammond thought to himself. "What's your point."

"Sir," Jack leaned over Hammond's desk, "the Tok'ra know that, especially Jacob." Watching the proverbial penny drop in his CO's narrowed eyes, Jack flipped back into his chair, waiting for the general to catch up.

"So you're saying that this supposed mission to destroy the System Lords is…"

"A crock, sir," Jack sighed. "They know Daniel will never agree to wholesale slaughter of hosts, Jaffa - people he would insist are innocent bystanders, no matter what they've done." The colonel's tone made it clear that he didn't agree. "Oh, he might stay interested long enough to go to Revanna and hear the rest of the plan, but there's no way he'd take on that kind of covert, decidedly dark op, sir." _No. Not Daniel._ Sure he'd changed to try to fit in with the tighter military agenda, toughened up, pulled his nose out of his books to take a look around and see the imminent danger every once in a long while. But Daniel's past actions made it crystal clear that he was incapable – yeah, there was that word again – of making this kind of big decision. He'd never agree to take so many lives, Goa'uld or otherwise.

Fingers tapping against his desk, Hammond shifted his weight as Jack's assessment sank past his concern for the future of SG-1. "But what would be the point, Jack? Granted, the Tok'ra are subtle, but what could they possibly gain by proposing a mission with this much potential believing that Dr. Jackson would refuse?"

"I don't know, General, but I'm guessing they figure they can use it as an excuse to keep us in the dark about any future operations –" he lowered his voice in an attempt at snooty Tok'ra arrogance, "'oh, well, we're sorry we can't help, but if you'd just agreed to send Dr. Jackson on a solo mission way behind enemy lines with a big bomb, we wouldn't be in this mess, now would we?'" Jack shrugged. "Or something like that."

"It seems kind of far-fetched."

"Yeah," Jack could feel the wrongness of the whole situation congealing in his gut, "but I guarantee you, General, there is something else going on here."

Hammond pursed his lips. "And you think this is more than your usual ill will towards the Tok'ra?" _You'd better not screw this up because of your own short-sightedness, Jack._

Colonel Jack O'Neill heard the unspoken warning but brushed it off. "Just let it play out, sir," Jack suggested. "Daniel's curiosity will get him to Revanna. Once we're there," he shrugged again, "we'll have plenty of time to dig for more intel while he fights with his scruples."

Hammond slapped both hands flat on the arms of his chair. "I've got to tell you, Colonel, I hope you're wrong. Dealing a death blow to the Goa'uld leadership sounds a hell of a lot more appetizing than stepping into another diplomatic minefield off-world." The Tollan and the Aschen sprang immediately to mind. "Our track record in these matters isn't exactly stellar." And if the Tok'ra were sincere, and they presented Daniel Jackson with the opportunity to bring down the combined might of the System Lords? George did his own assessment of the civilian's character and found himself disagreeing with his 2IC. To his knowledge, there was not one individual on the base who was as stubborn as the young archaeologist – nor as apt to put his own life on the line – but for some reason, his team leader didn't seem to concur, or care for that matter.

O'Neill stood, taking Hammond's words as a dismissal, but the general called him back as he opened the door. "Ren'Al's expecting contact at 0830 tomorrow. If Dr. Jackson agrees to go to Revanna for briefing she's offered an off-world orientation at the Tok'ra base for one of the new SG teams to coincide with SG-1's TDY."

Jack nodded. "Mansfield's team is ready, sir."

"Speak to Walter on the way out, Jack. Have him inform Major Mansfield of his team's likely departure time at 0900 tomorrow. And, Colonel," his voice drew the leader of SG-1 back into his office again, but he waited for Jack to turn around before continuing, "I'd suggest you speak with Dr. Jackson before this goes any further."

Eyes twitching wider at the general's unexpected statement, Jack felt himself balk at the simple request. He'd like to avoid another round of the usual arguments with Daniel at all costs. "I'll make sure to get his response, sir." Not exactly total compliance with his CO's suggestion, but as close as he was going to get from Jack tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Before Teal'c Visits Daniel

_Funny what a little eavesdropping can do for you_, Daniel thought to himself as he strode through the concrete hallways under Cheyenne Mountain. _Certainly helps one put things into perspective. _It was amazing how little it hurt to finally find out for sure exactly what Jack thought of him. He absently drew his key card through the card reader to call the elevator and tapped the rolled up papers against his chin. One angry snort ruffled the thin sheets momentarily as Daniel realized that, if he hadn't returned to discuss some of the history of the various System Lords that Ren'Al had given him with Jack and the general, he might have missed the big reveal. _Maybe there's something to be said for fate after all._

Daniel found himself back in his darkened office seated at his desk before he realized he'd moved – it reminded him of all those wee hour drives from the base to his apartment after a particularly difficult mission when the last thing he remembered as he dropped his pack in his living room was pulling out of the security checkpoint in the base parking lot. At least this time he didn't have to wonder if he'd run over any small children or sped through any red lights during his semi-fugue state. He could feel the oddly textured paper of the Tok'ra notes beneath his fingers, but the light that streamed in from his open door didn't reach far enough for him to make out the writing. Bumping his chair backward, he awkwardly reached up to flick on his desk lamp, unwilling to be found sitting silently in the dark by a casual visitor.

"'Not incapable, exactly'." Jack's callous evaluation slithered through the darkness outside the warm glow of the lamp. That actually made a lot of sense, Daniel reflected bitterly, putting what he'd taken as confusing behavior on certain missions together with Jack's cool appraisal of his usefulness to SG-1.

He remembered his astonishment when Jack insisted on taking the lead in their desperate attempts to get the K'tau people to see reason – Daniel had been stunned into speechlessness by his CO's blunt, caustic comments to a people whose world was dying because of the SGC's mistake. The loss of two airmen's lives – Daniel shook his head. He refused to go there. Even if Daniel had been allowed to take the lead and ease into the culture as he'd wanted, the results might have been the same. Jack didn't deserve his second-guessing, even if he didn't feel that Daniel deserved the same consideration.

But those hadn't been the only lives lost. No one knew what the Aschen were doing to Ambassador Faxon, but Daniel was quite sure it wasn't pleasant. He shifted his glasses to the top of his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to see Sam's violent exit from the wormhole and her tumble down the metal ramp, shouting for them to close the iris. Why? Why had Hammond relied on Jack O'Neill's diplomatic skills when dealing with the Aschen? The entire SGC assumed it would be Jack and Sam negotiating the treaty, shuffling Daniel and Teal'c to the sidelines – again – to 'dig a little deeper.' Granted, that time Kinsey himself had pulled the sarcastic colonel off the "let's make friends" team and Daniel was able to piece together some clues about the aliens' real agenda, but if he'd simply been allowed into the negotiations in the first place, he might have picked up on…something.

"Stop it," Daniel growled to himself, pressing hard enough against his closed eyes to turn the images there to red blobs. He knew those deaths added to the heavy weight Jack already carried, and his own petulant musings about what he might have done in those situations was shameful, dishonoring to his friend and team leader. Daniel had tried to forget the emotionally-charged words he'd thrown at Jack during their last attempt at the old pizza and beer camaraderie, and would never forget Jack's shuttered response when he'd tried to apologize for pouring salt into those still sensitive wounds. Yes, that had been a sure way to show support and inspire confidence.

He'd lost Jack's trust months ago, apparently, he didn't know exactly when – maybe, maybe he'd never really had his trust, just his sympathy. And that was the funniest thing of all, downright hysterical come to think of it. Even as Daniel saw his value in Jack's eyes diminish, watched his role at the SGC as it was reduced to civilian sounding board that could be dragged out when required and shut away when they were finished, he'd never lost that trust in Jack. He fought it sometimes, struggled against his innate necessity to do something – anything – to win back Jack's approval. _And how pathetic is that, really,_ he asked himself. But, he rationalized, he had no other choice. To keep his place here, to hold onto the only thing that brought any kind of meaning to his life, Daniel was willing to do almost anything. Short of packing up and moving back to Abydos, he really couldn't think of any viable alternatives.

Letting go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Daniel pulled his glasses back to his face and blinked down at the Goa'uld letters. The story of the inner wrangling of the System Lords was like reading a synopsis of a really violent soap opera – deception, intrigue, spies, tricks, sex, cheats, mass murder, spiteful destruction – oh yeah, the American television networks would have a field day. There was more intel about the Goa'uld on these few sheets of paper than they'd managed to pick up over the past five years, even with Teal'c's insights. Morrigan, Ba'al, Kali – just how many Goa'uld had migrated to Earth under Ra's supreme rule in ancient times? The anthropological opportunity to mingle with the other personal slaves of these beings, not to mention actually living within one of their compounds – Daniel tried to force his thoughts away from their usual scientific ruts. One hand pulled through his short hair in exasperation. Hell, this was not the way to prove to Jack O'Neill and General Hammond that he was capable of a mission with only a military objective.

_Okay, let's be honest,_ Daniel sat back in his chair, frowning. Regardless of the personal risks – and, according to these notes, some of the risks associated with this mission might be intensely personal, he squirmed – could he do it? Could he pull the metaphorical trigger on hosts and slaves, all innocent humans bent to do the will of their evil masters? Killing the Goa'uld themselves, that would be easy. Daniel doubted if anyone besides Teal'c realized how much he loathed the Goa'uld, how many times he'd woken from nightmares where his hands were covered in the blue blood of the symbiotes, how tightly he had to hold his rage in check every time he was in presence of one of the monsters. He remembered the sick feeling of warmth that flowed through him when he opened fire on the vat of infant symbiotes on Chulak, or how close he'd been to squeezing the life from Apophis' desiccated body when he'd come to them crying sanctuary.

No, he would not hesitate to wipe out the entire race. The question remained, would the Tok'ra's plan include the possibility of saving the human slaves, the Jaffa, or the hosts? Daniel doubted the Tok'ra even thought in those terms – even if they enjoyed a true symbiotic relationship between Tok'ra and human host, and Jacob claimed they did, he'd witnessed enough of their culture to see that the unblended humans who served the System Lords would be far, far under their radar. The Tok'ra had fought against the Goa'uld for so many decades they could probably no longer separate the acts of the symbiote from the face of its human puppet.

So, it really did come down to one question: was Jack right? Was Daniel incapable of acting, of taking lives to save lives, lives with human faces, not a vat full of snakes? Because, that's what the military did – they defended their homes, their country, their world by destroying outside threats. And if Daniel wasn't up to it, then Jack was right and he had no place in a military unit.

~---~

Jack rapped his knuckles against Teal'c's door. The Jaffa's grunted acknowledgement sounded loud even through the metal door, and Jack pushed it open and leaned in. He stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted him. Not a circle of lighted candles surrounding a meditative figure, but a pacing, anxious Jaffa, arms firmly clasped behind his back with a frown clouding his face. Not the usual frown of contempt for an enemy or a leader's bad jokes, but one full of concern and dismay.

"Teal'c?" If Jack didn't know any better he'd think the Jaffa was surprised by the identity of his visitor.

"O'Neill?"

Well at least he stopped pacing. "Yeah, uh, what's up?" His original purpose for this visit – getting Teal'c to sound out Daniel's reaction to the Tok'ra's proposal – was suddenly forgotten.

"Have you spoken with Daniel Jackson?" The Jaffa's eyes glittered threateningly.

Jack felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "Ah, funny you should ask…"

The Jaffa turned away. "I find nothing funny about this mission of the Tok'ra's, O'Neill," he spat.

Easing himself a step into the room, Jack folded his arms over his chest. For a lean, mean, Jaffa-machine, Teal'c could come up with some darn good insights himself, and Jack was a fool for thinking otherwise. "What's your take on this thing, T?"

"It is a foolish plan at best and dangerously unsafe at worst. The Tok'ra are not to be trusted."

Jack's eyebrows took another unexpected trip north at the Jaffa's tone. "Yeah, that's pretty much what the general and I thought. They're up to something, but hopefully Daniel will play along until we figure out –"

The dark face snapped back to confront SG-1's leader and Jack bit off his remark. Teal'c's expression was suddenly wary. "You believe Daniel Jackson will resist? You are positive of this?"

"Uh, well, positive is not a word I use around Daniel, unless it's positive that he'll do exactly what I don't want him to," Jack responded wryly. Teal'c hated the Tok'ra even more than he did himself; their betrayal over Shan'uac's death and Tanith's escape had only been resolved a short time ago when the big guy had shot the Goa'uld's ship out of the sky. To work with them, even for something this big, wouldn't be easy. And it must leave a bitter taste in the Jaffa's mouth to have a possibility to defeat the Goa'uld, however remote, left in Daniel's hands. "The Tok'ra are –"

"Using him," Teal'c growled, interrupting again. Teal'c's spirit seethed within him at the audacity of the creatures - the Tok'ra would use their teammate's own honor to trap him into this mission.

_Huh. Imagine that_, Jack's inner voice piped up. _Someone's using Daniel's weakness against the rest of them. _"If I only had a nickel," Jack sighed. "Listen, Teal'c, whatever the Tok'ra have in mind, Hammond feels this is something we have to follow up. It sounds too good to be true, the System Lords practically falling into our lap right when we need a substantial win to show the nay-sayers in Washington." Jack tapped one finger on Teal'c's broad chest. "But we need more information and we'll only get that by going to the Tok'ra base and making nice."

"I have no desire to 'make nice' with the Tok'ra," Teal'c twisted his head and stared at the concrete wall. He felt the repeated taps to his chest and turned back, one eyebrow raised. "I will, however, accompany Daniel Jackson to the briefing." _He will need my protection from his own yearning for control,_ the Jaffa thought. The Tok'ra work by deceit and cunning, and may indeed have access to the summit of the System Lords. If so, they could wish for no better human to infiltrate such a meeting disguised as a Lo'taur than Daniel Jackson. If his friend survived such a ruse with his body and spirit intact, it would soon not be so – even he, a trained Jaffa who was raised in violence still heard the screams of the many lives taken by his own hands. Daniel Jackson could not endure that torment.

"There you go," Jack smiled encouragingly. _We'll need you there when the fallout from Daniel's refusal hits the fan, _Jack thought. "Now if you could just check in on 'our hero,' drag him out of whatever moral mor_ass_ he's stuck in at the moment and make sure he's on board we can all get some sleep." He grabbed the doorknob and moved back to make room for the large Jaffa to precede him into the hallway.

Teal'c stopped in the doorway, frowning, and turned to face the colonel again. There was something unsettling here, something beneath their words that was not understood. "You wish Daniel Jackson to agree to take part in this mission, O'Neill?" he asked quietly.

"Right," Jack was glad the Jaffa understood that they had to get to Revanna to learn anything else.

The Jaffa attempted to keep the confusion from his face. "I will speak to him." Perhaps later in kel-no-reem he would understand O'Neill's meaning.


	5. Chapter 5

Summit – Teal'c and Daniel

Teal'c had been standing in his teammate's open doorway for quite some time, watching him study the notes that Ren'Al had provided. He would have come to speak with the scholar even before O'Neill's visit, but had expected the young man would seek him out. He did not know what the Tok'ra had included in the documents, but he hoped all of the responsibilities of a Lo'taur to his Goa'uld Master were well described, as well as the other distasteful duties and incidents to which he would be expected to be accustomed. He had witnessed Apophis' interaction with his own personal slaves, and Teal'c did not relish the idea of his young friend's exposure to even more horrors than he had already seen. So few years, and yet the weight of Daniel Jackson's existence was greater than many Jaffa of three times his age. Teal'c did not understand how O'Neill could wish this task to fall to Daniel Jackson, yet struggled with the lure of the destruction of the System Lords. He had devoted his life to this end, to freeing his Jaffa brothers, and he knew that the young human before him had his own vows to honor.

"Daniel Jackson."

"Yeah." Daniel felt the relief wash over him that it was Teal'c who stood in his office, not Jack. Teal'c's trust had never wavered.

"Have you considered the Tok'ra proposal?"

He never lifted his eyes from Ren'Al's notes. "Yep." The section concerning the intimate relationship between a Lo'taur and his Master had driven every thought of an evening meal from Daniel's mind, and his clenched teeth kept his responses short.

"If successful, it would deal the Goa'uld a mortal blow." Mortal. The weight of lives lost would be great, but the ultimate result would save many others. _Do you hear me, my brother? It is not necessary for yours to be the honor that is broken for this._

Teal'c's quiet intensity communicated volumes to the archaeologist, but he still did not raise his eyes. "Yeah. I realize what's at stake." He was warmed by his friend's concern and the knowledge that at least one member of his team would never doubt his resolve.

A few steps forward brought Teal'c to the edge of his teammate's desk. "Daniel Jackson. You have stated many times that in circumstances such as this, you would avoid such action if given a better option."

Blinking, Daniel looked up. "Right. You think there's a better way of overthrowing the Goa'uld?" His fierce blue gaze targeted the Jaffa's dark one.

Hesitating only a moment, Teal'c dropped his head in defeat. "I currently have no plan that would accomplish as much as the one put forth by the Tok'ra."

"That's why I'm gonna do it," Daniel nodded. _No matter what Jack thinks of me, no matter how the SGC has changed or is busy easing me out, and no matter what it costs me – I will do this._

~---~

Summit – In the Gate Room/Conference on Revanna – Extended Scene

Major Mansfield brought his men to attention as Jack and the rest of SG-1 swept into the 'gate room the next morning.

"At ease, Major," O'Neill waved off the military protocol.

"Colonel." Mansfield didn't care how casual SG-1 liked it; he'd keep SG-17 to the letter of the regs or die trying.

Jack twisted his lip at the new team. "I see you drew the short straw." Oy, off-world orientation by the Tok'ra, it didn't get any worse than that. He felt Carter slip around his back to approach another member of Mansfield's team.

"Lieutenant Elliot! You finally got your first assignment."

The newest SGC recruit's smile was blinding. "Yes, ma'am, be nice to see a little action for a change."

Jack rolled his eyes and reached up to adjust his cap. "This is your basic off-world orientation, lieutenant. There is no action."

"Maybe not sir," Elliot glanced back at Sam's encouraging face, "but I am looking forward to meeting the Tok'ra."

"You'll get over it," Jack drawled as he trudged up the ramp without a backward look.

Teal'c and Daniel glanced at each other and silently followed.

Sam hurried to greet her father as she exited the wormhole on the Tok'ra world of Revanna. A lot had happened since she'd seen him last, since she'd actually had a chance to sit down and talk to him. She smiled at his quick hug – it still amazed her that her relationship with her father had changed so much since his blending with Selmac. As Jacob greeted Col. O'Neill and introduced Aldwin to the members of SG-17 he kept a hold on her hand and the affection conveyed in the simple gesture seemed to allow some of his energy to flow into her tired body. Sam felt herself relax for the first time in a long time - she didn't notice the silence of her teammates behind her.

Once Aldwin had hurried Mansfield, Elliot, and their group off for the standard tour, Jacob Carter escorted SG-1 to the Tok'ra version of the conference room, ushering Daniel to the chair to his immediate right. Sam scooted in next to him, wanting to hear more about the Tok'ra plan, but also hoping to ask a few questions of her own. She didn't know how she felt about Daniel's demeanor this morning – all she knew was that he'd agreed to come to Revanna to hear about the mission, and that General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill had received word from the president to proceed. Daniel hadn't said more than five words to anyone before they stepped through the wormhole, and Sam wondered what was going through his mind. She'd seen Col. O'Neill in the commissary that morning, and he'd mentioned that she should have some time to see her dad, and hopefully follow up on Lantash's recovery, but he didn't seem to be taking Daniel's undercover mission too seriously. It did seem a little unrealistic.

"So, Danny, what do you think?" Jacob asked bluntly as soon as the group was seated around the silvery table.

"Um- "

"Now, Jacob," Jack interrupted quickly, "you know how we hate surprises." When all eyes turned towards him expectantly he added, "Details, Jacob. Ren'Al here was hugely lacking in details."

"How are you going to get me in?" Daniel asked, trying to tune Jack out. He'd been trying all morning – the Jack that had shown up in the control room and then in the locker room to change was one of the most annoying Jack's he knew – the one whose sarcastic quips made light of just about everything.

Jacob locked eyes with the young archaeologist, clearly getting the message. "Yu will be among the System Lords attending the meeting," he began.

Sam snickered at the old pun. "I thought you said he was going in as a slave."

He felt Selmac try to surge forward, but Jacob held a hurried conference with his Tok'ra symbiote and stayed in control. Selmac was agitated, anxious that the young human be well acquainted with the dangers of his mission, but also eager at the potential to overthrow the tyrannical rule of a race that had ground the Tok'ra under their heels for thousands of years. He could taste victory, a victory that had been so long in coming, but that would be at the mercy of this fragile life sitting beside him. Jacob sighed heavily. He did not know why Jack and his daughter were taking this so lightly.

"The System Lord Yu," he ground out between his teeth.

Sam had the good taste to cringe a bit at his tone, but then flicked her gaze to the colonel's. "Little joke there," she held up two fingers to suggest just how little.

Jacob sensed Daniel's growing impatience. "Yu knows my face," the young man said curtly. "He'll recognize me."

"He will not." Ren'Al's voice was overlaid by her symbiote's as she moved to the table and placed a box before Daniel. He opened it to find a plain metal ring inside, a ring with a sharp needle-like protuberance on one side.

"Ren'Al and her team have been working on a modified version of the chemical SG-1 obtained from the Reol." Jacob watched Daniel's quick mind process the possible uses of the mind-control chemical and come up with the answer before Ren'Al opened her mouth to explain further. He watched the thoughts and emotions flicker across his expressive blue eyes even as he struggled to mask them.

"If you can get close enough to inject him, we'll be able to convince him that you're his most trusted Lo'taur."

Ren'Al's use of the word 'we' did not escape Daniel, Jacob noticed.

"His most trusted what?" Jack was becoming more uncomfortable as the meeting went on. This was getting awfully elaborate for a ruse, even a Tok'ra ruse. And the expression on Jacob's face when he looked at Daniel was so… eager. Teal'c's bitter explanation didn't exactly help.

"Lo'taur is the highest rank among the human slaves of the System Lords."

_What the hell did that mean?_ Jack wondered.

Jacob squirmed against the hard chair and the hard truth about the fates of some of the System Lords' Lo'taurs. "They're like personal attendants. It's considered to be a position of great honor." He only needed to glance up at Teal'c's hardened expression to be reminded that his description was lacking in specifics. "I spent the last couple of months establishing myself as a minor Goa'uld in Yu's service. I'll be able to get Daniel on board his mother ship and deal with the loose ends." At least Yu was the oldest living System Lord – his expectations for his Lo'taur were unusually mild compared with some of the others.

Daniel swallowed with difficulty, allowing some of the discussion to flow over and around him for a moment. "Assuming I make it onto the space station, what happens next?" _Let's just get this out into the open._

Ren'Al approached the table again with a small device. "You wait until all the System Lords have arrived, and then you use this." It was small – no bigger than a fountain pen, with two chambers that held some kind of fluid. Daniel reached out one hand to take it gingerly. "These two liquids mixed together form a most virulent poison. Press the button to open the path between the two containers. The liquid will immediately be vaporized." He watched his own hand place the device as far from him on the table as he could reach - slowly. "Within seconds, pressure will break the seal on the container and the gas will be released."

Of course. A bomb would be too easy. Setting a bomb, ringing away to Jacob's waiting ship, and flying away before the explosion turned the System Lords, their hosts, and their human slaves into slag would allow Daniel to remove himself from the act. No. This was just perfect. This way he'd be there to see the suffering and the dying right in front of his eyes. He realized his chest was pounding.

"Am I supposed to hold my breath?" he asked, feeling like he'd been doing that anyway for far too long.

Ren'Al smiled. "The poison is only deadly to symbiotes."

Oh. _Oh._ Daniel blinked rapidly and felt the tension in his shoulders ease. Now he understood. Minor losses. Only Goa'uld casualties. Just the symbiotes would die – he could do that. The rivers of blood that had been streaming by in his mind's eye since Ren'Al's visit to the SGC slowed to a trickle. He heard Sam ask about the danger of having such a compound on the Tok'ra base and shook his head. Surely the Tok'ra would have thought of that already.

"And it doesn't kill the host?" Daniel had to make sure he was hearing this accurately. When he saw the glance Jacob and Ren'Al exchanged, his anxiety level ramped up again.

The Tok'ra woman sighed. "Not the chemical itself, but, as you know, the dying symbiote releases its own toxin which is just a deadly."

"Daniel," Jacob leaned towards the frowning young man before Daniel could open his mouth. "The human host of a System Lord has been through the sarcophagus countless times. We know the toll that takes." He watched his words sink in, understanding that Daniel knew the effects of a sarcophagus first hand. Surely Daniel would understand that these men and women would be horrified at what they had become, what they had watched themselves do over the decades or centuries. "They're hundreds, sometimes thousands of years old. Never mind the psychological damage, they'd suffer physically without the Goa'uld to sustain them - they'd die anyway."

"So we're doing them a favor." Daniel couldn't keep the grim irony from his voice. Maybe he was weak. Maybe Jack had been right to mistrust him with something like this.

Two seats away, Jack O'Neill heard it in Daniel's voice – he was pulling out. _Aw, crap, don't cave now,_ _Daniel,_ he thought angrily, _it's too soon. We need more information. _"How many targets?" he asked quickly, trying to move the discussion away from the linguist's precious morals.

Jacob darted a glance his way, but never leaned away from Daniel, watching intently for any sign of his acquiescence. "There'll be seven System Lords at the meeting – that's all the major players." A firmness in his voice brought Daniel's attention back to his face. "If we pull this off, the Goa'uld may never recover." Was that a nod? The archaeologist's blue eyes still seemed clouded with doubt, but the set of his shoulders and his level gaze gave Jacob hope and sent Selmac into enthusiastic lecturing about the care they'd need to take with the poison. Jacob shushed the symbiote and leaned back in his chair.

Daniel hadn't actually said anything yet, one way or the other, but Jack knew a rant was coming – that was SOP for Dr. Daniel Jackson. Give him a hard military target and he'd spend all day hand-wringing about treaties and innocents. _Okay, now let's find out about that other shoe_, Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Jacob and Ren'Al's apparent relief.

"What can we do?" Jack asked. _C'mon, Jacob, give. What was really going on here?_

Impatient with the colonel's constant interruptions, Jacob's voice was crisp. "Wait here," he stated firmly. "I'll communicate when the mission's been accomplished."

_What?_

"You wish Daniel Jackson to accompany you without SG-1?" Teal'c wasn't exactly demonstrative, but Jack couldn't miss the disbelief in the Jaffa's face that he was sure mirrored his own feelings.

"There'd be nothing for you to do there, Teal'c, and if we're going to do this, Danny and I are going to have to leave within the hour. I've got to get him to Yu's homeworld and make the exchange before Yu and his Lo'taur leave for the Summit. That doesn't give us much time." Jacob made to push himself away from the table, but stopped and placed one hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Are we going to do this, Danny?"

Daniel gazed down at the ring and the poison vial on the table in front of him, purposefully avoiding what he knew would be Teal'c's concerned expression, and Jack's skeptical one. "Yes, Jacob. We're going to do this." He felt the older man's hand tighten on his shoulder and looked up to see a grim smile stretch across his face.

"Great. I'll meet you at the ring transporter in 30 minutes. That'll give me a chance to make sure everything's packed." He slapped Daniel on the back, nodded to Ren'Al and hurried from the conference room.

"Wait a minute… dad!" Sam turned in her seat to watch her father's back vanish around the corner.

"Your father has been quite busy with this mission for weeks, Major Carter," Ren'Al advised. "Quite single-minded. I'm sure he will have time to visit with you when he and Dr. Jackson return." She smiled. "He should have all the time in the world, actually."

"Yeah, but…"

"This sudden urgency does not please me, O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted.

"That's what I was saying, Teal'c," Sam added. She turned to her teammate seated to her left. "Daniel?"

"Hmm?" He didn't lift his eyes from the table.

"C'mon, Daniel, you can't be okay with this," she insisted. "You're just going to take off with dad and Selmac and make a strike behind enemy lines?"

Finally, Daniel looked up into Sam's worried expression, knowing he shouldn't take his dark mood out on her. "What do you want me to do, Sam?" he asked quietly. "Pass up the one opportunity to cut the head off of the Goa'uld System Lords because things are happening a little fast?" He leaned towards her suddenly, eyes intent. "Tell me, if this was anyone but me going on this mission, would you be the least bit concerned?" He shoved his chair back, wincing at the sound the heavy metal made against the solid floor. "I guess I'd better pack – or find out just what I'm supposed to pack." He turned toward the exit to find Ren'Al waiting to accompany him and left without a word, wondering if Jack was ever going to say anything.

Sam twisted again in her chair until she faced the colonel and Teal'c, noticing the harsh glare the Jaffa had turned on their CO. "Sir? This isn't right."

"I know that, major," Jack sighed. "Something is going on here, some subtle Tok'ra crap that I can't get a finger on."

"You are wrong, O'Neill," Teal'c growled. "Yesterday you informed me that it was your wish that Daniel Jackson undertake this mission. Today he is going. What is 'not right' is your continued silence toward your friend." Teal'c stood in one graceful movement, barely displacing the air. "I do not understand, O'Neill," he looked down at his teammates with confusion, his voice suddenly soft. "That the Goa'uld must be destroyed, that I understand – better than you. That the Taur'i wish to feel safe from their enemies I also understand. Perhaps Daniel Jackson is the best choice for this mission. But that you would choose to sacrifice your friend without a word – that I do not understand."

Jack squinted up at the Jaffa, his mouth a thin angry line. "What the hell does that mean? Daniel's a big boy and can figure this stuff out on his own – he's nothing if not independent," Jack mocked. "I can't believe –" he shook his head. "Jacob can't be serious!"

"Sounded serious to me, sir," Sam replied, wondering why the colonel seemed to be having trouble grasping the basic facts: Daniel was being sent on a mission by himself, undercover as the slave of a System Lord, with the intention of infiltrating a meeting of the most powerful Goa'uld in the galaxy and pulling off a killing strike. And all this was to happen without his team there to back him up. She shuddered at her careless levity of a few moments ago. They didn't even get to say good-bye.

"No," Jack continued to shake his head as he levered himself out of his chair. "No. The Tok'ra are up to something. I've just got to get to Jacob and figure out what's really going on here." He started towards the door, hoping to find his way back to Jacob's quarters without getting lost in the identical tunnels. "You two see if you can find Ren'Al – maybe she'll let something slip." He hurried out.

Sam locked eyes with her large teammate. "What exactly is she supposed to let slip, Teal'c?"

"I do not know, Major Carter," he answered, scowling. "I will find Daniel Jackson and speak to him again of this mission."

Sam nodded. "I'll come with you."

~---~

Summit – Jack confronts Jacob

Jack finally ran Jacob to ground in one of the hallways between his quarters and Daniel's. Or maybe it was the hallway between Daniel's and the lab… wherever they were, he spied Jacob's bald head and ran to catch up. "Jacob! Jacob, wait up!"

Grinding his teeth together, Jacob swept one hand over his head and turned to face Jack O'Neill. He didn't have time for this. Selmac agreed and offered his presence to deal with the colonel, but Jacob assured his symbiote that he could handle it.

Pushing past two Tok'ra, Jack faced the former Major General. "Why does it seem like there's something you're not telling us," he insisted. Dammit, this was insane – the feeling had only grown since the moment Ren'Al had stepped through the Stargate. If he didn't know any better he'd say the last twelve hours had been a dream – an extremely boring dream, true, but the unease in his gut, and the feeling of unreality had kept him from finding his balance. Daniel going on an undercover mission by himself at the behest of the Tok'ra – it reeked, nothing about it was right. This wasn't Daniel's thing – Daniel was talk and hand waving and outlandish theories; Jack was black ops, surgical strikes and enemy infiltration.

"Jack –" Jacob shook his head and hurried along the hallway in disgust. For the leader of a front-line combat team, Jack O'Neill sure was playing dumb today.

"Now, come on!" Jack growled, his frustration at this whole situation forcing him to leap to catch up to Jacob's retreating back. "You're the one that's always saying that every time we knock off one of these System Lords, a worse one shows up. Why should this be any different?"

Clamping down on his frustration, Jacob kept moving. "It is true that others might eventually rise up, but by taking them all out at once we'll create a power vacuum that'll lead to a massive galaxy-wide war as the remaining Goa'uld jockey for position. That will last long enough for us to make a final decisive move."

Grabbing the Tok'ra's elbow, Jack forced him to a stop in the narrow hallway and face him. "Which is?"

The muscle in Jacob's jaw jumped as he looked into O'Neill's dark eyes. "A widespread attack on the entire Goa'uld population using the symbiote poison," he snarled, jabbing one finger into Jack's chest. "We're gonna wipe them out, Jack. All of them." Leaving the Air Force officer stunned and speechless, Jacob walked off.


	6. Chapter 6

Daniel Departs

"It's a test run," Jack announced when he found his way back to the conference room and Carter and Teal'c. He knew it – leave it to the Tok'ra to come up with a way to test their precious new weapon with little to no risk to their own more precious hides. A dull ache was throbbing at the base of Jack's skull, and the guarded expressions on his teammates' faces weren't exactly helping matters. "Sending a human in to release the poison in a controlled atmosphere will tell them just how effective this gas is. Once they have their results they plan to release it in bulk on every Goa'uld occupied planet."

"Their results?" Dr. Samantha Carter's eyes blazed. "Sir, are you saying that they're using Daniel as some kind of delivery mechanism because they don't want to endanger one of their own?"

Geez, Carter was slow on the uptake today. Jack tilted his head at his 2IC. "Of course they're using him, Carter, it's what the Tok'ra do." They just aren't using him the way Jack thought they were. The pounding grew.

"O my God," Sam's mind flew ahead, weighing the different scenarios. "Even if Daniel is successful, and manages to get out of the space station without the Goa'uld's human slaves tearing him apart, he's going to be responsible for millions of deaths…"

"Of both Goa'uld and Jaffa," Teal'c added, scowling furiously. "O'Neill, we must explain the Tok'ra plan to Daniel Jackson. He must be convinced to abandon his involvement."

Before Jack could reply Sam braced herself against the conference table and crossed her arms over her chest, her body language clearly communicating her anxiety. "I don't know, Teal'c, he wouldn't even talk to us about it."

"What – Daniel's off sulking? Oh, there's a new one. He's just dying for us to talk him out of this," Jack huffed and then found himself bracing his feet widely apart in unconscious preparation for an attack when Teal'c loomed menacingly nearer.

Carter placed one pale hand on the Jaffa's forearm as her teammates traded stares. "Sir, Daniel's made up his mind to do this. He's…"

"Stubborn? Pig-headed? Supremely unaware of his own limitations?" Jack was happy to supply the adjectives but kept his eyes fixed on Teal'c warily. He heard Sam's frustrated sigh and risked a glance. "Again I say, _what?_" he snapped.

"Daniel Jackson is both unwavering and strong-minded, O'Neill," for the first time, Teal'c used the name of his brother-in-arms as a reproach, "and willing to sacrifice himself for this cause on behalf of your people. I am proud to call _him_ my brother." He hoped the emphasis was not lost on the human before him.

Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch it there, buddy."

"Colonel, is General Hammond on board with this?" Sam hoped that bringing up the General's name might siphon off some of the testosterone building up in the room. She was surprised when it was Teal'c who answered.

"General Hammond advised Daniel Jackson to use his own judgment when considering the Tok'ra proposal. Apparently your president is anxiously awaiting news of the end of the Goa'uld threat."

Sam shook her head sadly. "Okay, so no pressure there," she mumbled.

Jack had taken part in this particular game of chicken too many times in the past with members of his command to allow Teal'c to get away with it. Even if he knew he was wrong. The headache banged away behind his eyes as he chewed over that thought. In a few minutes Daniel would take off with Jacob to become a slave to a slimy snake-head all for the greater good. Greater good. Daniel loved greater good crap. But there really was a greater good here – the destruction of the Goa'uld. Jack just didn't know, suddenly, if the young archaeologist's shoulders should be bearing that weight alone.

"I'll go talk to him." Jack acknowledged Teal'c's reaction to his decidedly critical description of their teammate with shrugged shoulders and watched the fury begin to abate in those cold dark eyes.

The Jaffa wasn't quite convinced. "And what will you say to him?" he hissed.

Jack reached out and placed one hand on Teal'c's broad shoulder in an unconscious imitation of Jacob's gesture towards Daniel a few minutes ago. "It's okay, T." He shook the large man, or attempted to shake him. "I'll figure something out."

~---~

Ren'Al had taken the poison and the ring so that they could be stowed in the cargo ship that awaited them on the surface, as if she didn't quite trust Daniel with the volatile substance. _Seemed to be a universal attitude these days._ Daniel folded the pages of notes carefully and laid them on the few items he'd stashed in his pack – a few books to try to keep his mind busy on the trip to Yu's homeworld, a clean change of clothes for the hopefully successful return trip, a few power bars, his GDO, a med-kit, just in case, the case for his glasses as well as the contact lenses that he hated. That's it. The Tok'ra had told him not to bother bringing any weapons and Daniel had placidly agreed. If it came down to hand-to-hand fighting it would mean the mission was already fried.

Daniel didn't mean to be so abrupt with Teal'c and Sam, but he just couldn't talk about this anymore. The decision was his and he'd made it – he didn't need to revisit it over and over again with his friends. He sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed, wondering if the blending of the Tok'ra symbiote gave the human hosts some kind of immunity to hard beds and inflexible chairs as he'd never seen one iota of softness or padding on anything belonging to the Tok'ra. It was always harsh angles and cold metal surfaces with them. But then again, maybe it was just a streak of rebelliousness against the garish ostentation and decadent sumptuousness of Goa'uld tastes. Daniel smiled to himself. Walking through the narrow grey hallways of the underground Revanna base felt so familiar – just another military headquarters, he mused, not unlike Stargate Command. It felt just as cold and impersonal and…alien.

General Hammond's unexpected request for a meeting early this morning was waiting for him when he'd entered his office. He knew the general kept irregular hours – almost as irregular as his own – but hadn't expected anyone to beat him to the base at 0500. Whether it was through a desire not to keep the general waiting or from a deep streak of rebelliousness, Daniel hadn't bothered to change out of his black jeans and sweater before making his way to Level 27 and knocking on Hammond's door. Probably both. He didn't know how the older man did it, but General Hammond looked awake and organized as he always did on base.

"You wanted to see me, General?"

"Dr. Jackson." Hammond smiled and gestured the young man to a seat. He made a point of looking at his watch. "You're in early, son."

Daniel had glanced around the office, wondering if his early arrival had caught the commander of the SGC off-guard, but relaxed at the General's honest smile.

"Just wanted to make sure everything was…" Daniel had trailed off, not quite sure how to finish.

Hammond frowned slightly. He'd heard the finality in the archaeologist's words and recognized the urge to put one's affairs into some kind of order before undertaking a dangerous mission. "I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you before we contact the Tok'ra this morning. I understand from Colonel O'Neill that you have voiced your interest in proceeding with the briefing on Revanna."

A matching frown had touched Daniel's brow for a moment before his expression cleared. _Oh – Teal'c_. Since Jack hadn't come within several levels of Daniel office last night, he'd guessed, and he didn't have any loud-mouthed, belligerent visitors at his apartment at oh-dark-thirty, he figured Teal'c had informed Jack of his decision. "I recognize how important this mission is, General," Daniel started, hitching forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his thighs. "Really. I won't let you down." He'd raised sincere blue eyes to the man seated across the desk.

"I didn't expect you would," General Hammond responded quickly. "I don't have to tell you how much we value your contribution to this program," he waved vaguely, as if to encompass the Stargate and everything associated with it. "Having something like this come up so fast has left us all struggling to catch up, as usual," the general allowed a small smile to reach his eyes. "I just wanted to touch base with you, to make sure you had everything you need."

Daniel had stifled his urge to question just what kind of contribution the general was talking about. He certainly had everything he needed to make his decision – more than Jack and General Hammond even knew. Insight into their attitudes towards his so-called value had undoubtedly helped him. He remembered how the general had watched him as if he were waiting for a typical Daniel Jackson response. Daniel had kept his opinions so closely to himself lately that he wondered what that meant.

"I've spoken with the President," Hammond continued, glancing at the red phone on his desk. "You can imagine his enthusiasm at the idea of eliminating the Goa'uld threat."

Sitting up, Daniel couldn't help holding up one warning hand. "Ah, General, perhaps you should point out to the president that, even if this works, eliminating the System Lords will not wipe out all the Goa'uld in this galaxy. It might undercut their power base and destabilize their hold on many planets, but there will still be many more out there waiting to take their place." He'd thought a lot about Ren'Al's words and the notes she'd given him last night when he was lying in his bed staring at the ceiling. She'd only given him background and history on seven of the top ranking Goa'uld – with their destruction the second tier would most likely fight each other for place for a time, but it wouldn't take long until some struggled to the top of the pack. Retribution at those who caused the decimation of the System Lords might be swift. "I believe the Tok'ra are planning further attacks, General, that's the only thing that makes any sense."

"Strike while they're scrambling," Hammond had nodded. "I agree. We might be able to help them with that." He'd been quiet for a long time after that statement and Daniel had found himself fidgeting nervously.

"Is there anything else, General?" he'd desperately wanted the meeting to end, to escape back to his empty office.

"Son," the General's soft tone had threatened to loosen the tight rein he'd kept on his emotions. "This mission…" He'd taken a deep breath and Daniel had allowed his chest to unclench just enough to breathe himself. "Well, it's not exactly what we usually ask you to use your linguistic talents for."

Daniel's thoughts had spun. "No, sir."

Hammond straightened. "Do you think you're up to it, son? I will not give this mission a 'go' unless you're one hundred per cent sure."

He'd felt the spasm in his guts and knew the furrow between his eyebrows had grown deep. One hundred per cent? Sam could give the General the stats on how often scientists were one hundred per cent sure of anything, not even that the sun came up in the east, or, given a choice, that Jack O'Neill would choose beer. Military agenda, diplomatic agenda – Daniel could never claim complete and utter confidence, especially in himself, especially now.

Rising from his perch on the edge of the cement-like bunk, Daniel shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, remembering only some kind of assurance tumbling from his lips and the general giving him leave to go. He'd brushed past Jack on his way out of the office and had felt his face heat in unwilling embarrassment as the dark eyes widened at his distinctly un-military appearance. Luckily, General Hammond had summoned his 2IC into conference before the sardonic comment escaped from Jack's thin lips.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Daniel didn't bother to raise his eyes to the doorway – _and what was it with not putting doors on any of their rooms in the Tok'ra base?_ – to know that whatever he'd thought he'd escaped that morning was coming home to roost with a vengeance.

"Jack."

"Daniel."

He heard Jack's boots scrape against the flooring as he stepped into the room. Daniel sighed, dropping his shoulders, and forced himself to face the other man, his own anger rising to meet what he saw on Jack's face.

Jack's eyes flicked to the pack and the small pile of items discarded next to it before returning to Daniel's confrontational gaze. "All packed I see."

"What do you want, Jack?" Daniel was tired of the conversation already.

"I want to know what you think you're doing, Daniel," the colonel shot back at him.

Daniel seethed. "Apparently I'm going with Jacob to kill a whole bunch of System Lords, Jack, did you doze off during the briefing?"

"Aw, cut the crap, Daniel. The 'tough-guy' act doesn't really fit you now does it?"

"No, Jack," Daniel hefted the bag and settled it on one shoulder. "You're the only one on this team allowed to hide behind that." He took a step towards the open doorway, stopping barely in time to avoid bumping into the leader of SG-1 who had suddenly surged into his path. He locked gazes with Jack, realizing – again – that he only had an inch or two of height on Daniel and yet the man seemed to have the innate ability to loom over him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jack heard his shout echo loudly back from the crystalline walls of the Tok'ra installation, but noticed that Daniel didn't flinch. Wide blue eyes blazed with anger and bitterness, and Jack suddenly understood that most of that fury wasn't aimed at him. He felt the slow-churning gears of his mind slip the clutch and sputter uselessly. Oh, crap, he so wasn't good at this. This was _Daniel_ – it should be easy to figure out what was going on in that giant brain, so why did Jack suddenly feel like he was on the wrong train of thought?

He reached out with one hand and grabbed the archaeologist's arm. Feeling a moment of relief when Daniel didn't immediately move away, Jack ground his teeth together when he noticed his teammate's rigid posture. "Look, Daniel, you don't know what you're doing. This mission – it isn't your thing. You're going out there without backup…"

Daniel jerked his arm from Jack's hold and swallowed the reproof, knowing Jack's words were just a continuation of his comments to Hammond yesterday. _'Not incapable, exactly.'_ "Yes, Jack, I _know_. If someone else could do it I'd gladly hand it off so you wouldn't have to worry about how I'll screw it up." He pushed past the stunned colonel and walked into the tunnel, a dry laugh sounding hollowly from his throat. Daniel's eyebrows rose in mock astonishment as he threw up his hands and turned back. "But, for some strange reason Jacob seems to think I can pull this off. Now I don't know where he came up with that idea, but I can't exactly pass this up, can I?"

"Like hell you can't," Jack started, shaking his head sharply. "You don't get it-"

The archaeologist sucked in his breath and restrained the backlash of bridled emotions that wanted to spill out all over the floor. "Jack – I get it! Do you?" He thrust his chin towards his friend's face, his mind skittering from that word as associated with Jack O'Neill right now but unwilling to take it back, even mentally. "It's a chance to kill all of the Goa'uld System Lords. After what I've… after what they've taken from me, how can I say no? Tell me, Jack, how?"

"Dr. Jackson?" Neither of the men had noticed Ren'Al's approach until she was standing right beside the archaeologist. "Jacob has communicated that it is time to depart."

"I'm ready," Daniel muttered. He waited until the Tok'ra had taken a few steps down the tunnel ahead of him. "Goodbye, Jack."


	7. Chapter 7

Summit – On the Way to Yu's Homeworld

_Wow_, Daniel thought to himself as he attached the wide belt tightly around his waist. _If this was the usual costume of a System Lord's Lo'taur he hoped they heated their ships very, very well._ The tissue thin pants and sleeveless shirt made him feel as close to naked as a fully clothed person could feel, and completely vulnerable, a feeling that the arrogant Goa'uld engendered quite purposefully, no doubt. The leathery shoulder piece definitely had its origin in the yoke – a device that fit around a beast of burden's neck to distribute the weight of his load more efficiently. Yeah, leave it to the Goa'uld to be long on symbolism and short on comfort - Daniel bent his right knee and then his left to try to ease the tightness in his groin. Of course Jacob wouldn't let him wear his own underwear, either. Daniel didn't even want to think about who he was afraid would be checking him out that closely.

As he inserted the contact lens into his right eye, Daniel smiled to himself. Yes, the costume was embarrassingly thin, but the vulnerable feeling had suddenly been multiplied by a factor of one thousand with the mere exchange of metal framed glasses for the thin, undetectable contact lenses. It was amazing how uncomfortable and out of his depth Daniel felt without that everyday accessory standing squarely between him and the world. He blinked rapidly, trying to convince his eyes that it hadn't been that long since he'd worn the soft lenses, but they weren't buying it. He heard Jacob struggling into his own clothes – long, layered robes that managed to cover the Tok'ra quite completely from neck to ankles, Daniel noticed, and decided he'd try to get as much information as possible before he reached Yu's palace.

"So why do the System Lords need human attendants?" Need was probably the wrong word, he decided. From the reports he'd read it was more a question of desire and pride than any real need.

Jacob pulled on the long brocade over-tunic while he watched the young man's tense back. He'd noticed that Daniel hadn't been able to face him since he'd put on the regalia of Yu's slave. Whether that was out of a sense of humiliation or self-doubt, he had no idea, but he knew it would be better for Daniel if he helped him face his fears now while he was still safe on the Tok'ra cargo ship, rather than let him drag those fears into Yu's palace. A Lo'taur always acted with confidence in his place within the System Lord's hierarchy, and he had to make sure that Daniel was letter-perfect in his role before he'd leave him behind enemy lines.

"Well," Jacob answered frankly at Selmac's inner urging, "the Jaffa serve a strictly military function. Besides, if the host of a System Lord is ever injured beyond a symbiote's ability to heal it would be pretty useful to have a human close at hand." _That's right, Danny_, he thought, _that's another reason the System Lords only pick the most beautiful and healthy to be their personal attendants – they were nothing if not vain. You have to be prepared for the symbiote as well as the human._

Daniel's eyes widened. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that." _Hope, pray, whatever. This idea is just getting better and better._ He tried to focus on the instructions for playing his part among Yu's other slaves as he slipped the armbands emblazoned with the Goa'uld's device up to his biceps. The simple character, _zhong_, still had meaning among the Asian cultures on Earth, denoting loyalty, especially to one's land or ruler. Jacob had mentioned that, although it wasn't spoken within his hearing in Yu's household, Daniel's fluency in Chinese was something that might help him out on this mission. He'd take any advantage he could get.

"Are you clear on all the backgrounds of the System Lords?" Selmac suggested that Jacob quiz the young human on the pertinent facts, but Jacob knew that Daniel didn't need the extra stress right now. The archaeologist was a quick study, and he was certainly motivated to fulfill this mission – that was one reason Selmac and the others on the Tok'ra High Council had agreed to Jacob's choice. Daniel had lost family and friends to the Goa'uld, and personal losses were something the Tok'ra understood full well. He'd worked with Daniel before, and even in the short amount of time the two had spent together, Jacob had come to understand the iron beneath the scientist's sensitive soul. It was the father in him that struggled the most with what he was asking the young man to do – the father who worried about the stress and the danger, the wounds Daniel's conscience would be dealt – and it was the father in him that would be guilty for the rest of his life if anything happened to him.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." Daniel kept his back to the Air Force general turned Tok'ra.

"Good. We'll be at Yu's homeworld in a little over an hour." Hopefully the short time span between their arrival and Yu and Daniel's departure for the System Lord summit would reduce the possibility of exposure. It was the flight time between Yu's home and the space station that worried Jacob the most right now – a bored Goa'uld with his most intimate slave – he shook his head. Hopefully Yu would be too busy putting the finishing touches on any subtle plans of his own to pay much attention to Daniel and any faux pas he might make.

Adjusting the cuffs on his robe, Jacob noticed that Daniel was still fussing with his costume, taking an inordinate amount of time to tidy up his things, hands moving nervously. "Are you all right, Daniel?"

Jacob's harmless question tightened the knots in the back of Daniel's neck. Simple answer? No, I'm not all right. I'm far from all right. I'm walking into Yu's palace to take the place of his body servant so that I can infiltrate a meeting of the Goa'uld System Lords and wipe them out with an untested poison without my team. "Oh yeah, I'm fine," he responded, trying hard to keep his tone light.

_Sure you are. _

'He is afraid,' Selmac's concern drifted across Jacob's awareness.

'Yeah, but he's a tough kid,' Jacob replied inwardly. 'Much tougher than he appears.'

Images flashed from Selmac's mind to Jacob's consciousness. 'I witnessed that on Netu. He insisted upon remaining strong for his friends. For whom does he fight this time?'

Jacob placed his hands on his hips. 'He's fighting for all of us, Selmac – his people, our people –'

'Yes,' Selmac interrupted quickly, 'but these people, as you call them, have no faces; he has no personal feelings for them. It is a loyalty of the mind, not of the heart – will that be enough?'

"Listen," Jacob spoke aloud, "if you're not one hundred per cent committed to this mission, I need to know."

There it was again – one hundred per cent. Everyone insisted on using that phrase and Daniel's self-doubt grew every single time he heard it. He took a deep breath. It sounded almost as if Jacob was offering him a way out of this mission, all he had to do was admit his concerns, his worries, and his somewhat less than one hundred per cent belief in his capability of carrying it out. "I just think some of your details are a little, uh, sketchy," he half turned towards Jacob and casually leaned one elbow on the cargo container he'd been using as a dresser.

_Okay, at least he is finally looking at me_, Jacob nodded in acknowledgement of the young man's comment. "Like what?" _Keep talking, Daniel._

"Well, you're going to use the poison to wipe out the Goa'uld, right?"

'I told you he was quick, Selmac.' Jacob couldn't help a stab of pride at the young man's deduction of the Tok'ra plan, but it was quickly replaced by the thought that maybe it would have been easier for Daniel to go forward and use the poison without this particular insight. "Eventually," he agreed, warily.

Daniel grimaced. "What about the Jaffa?" Slaves. Slaves who had been bio-engineered to become Goa'uld incubators and conditioned throughout generations to serve as their unquestioning soldiers. The people of Chulak – Teal'c's people; Bra'tac and Ry'ac's people.

Folding his hands in front of him, Jacob took a few steps towards Daniel's deceptively relaxed pose. "Well, that's still a bit of a wrinkle," he admitted. "Unless we can find a way to reverse their biological dependence on immature symbiotes, they'll all die as well."

"'A bit of a wrinkle,'" Daniel echoed with a tight smile.

"Danny, the Goa'uld have been spreading like a plague across the galaxy for thousands of years." Jacob and Selmac watched the young man through narrowed eyes. "Now, for the first time, they're showing zero population growth. We're not sure why, but we intend to take advantage of the situation." They had no real answers for Daniel's questions, no solution to offer – in fact, most of the Tok'ra would not hesitate to use the poison as soon as its effectiveness could be ascertained. So many had died at the hands of the Jaffa that massacring the Goa'uld's minions would not produce one ounce of remorse. Daniel needed to focus on just this mission – just this one – and bringing death to the Goa'uld System Lords. Other questions could wait. "We may never get a chance like this again." Jacob caught a glimpse of the sadness in the archaeologist's eyes before he dropped his head.

"Are we good to go?" Jacob asked again. One more chance to say no, Danny. The last one.

He understood the opening Jacob was giving him, but he couldn't make himself take it. Shifting his eyes away from the older man's scrutiny, Daniel tried again to shut down his whirling thoughts and emotions and fight his way through the expectations that nearly suffocated him. Expectations for failure. Expectations for obedience – duty. "Yeah," he answered, not trusting himself to say more.

~---~

Inside Jack's Head/ Summit – Meanwhile on Revanna

It had been a few hours since Daniel and Jacob left and Jack O'Neill had checked in with General Hammond via the Stargate, and the colonel was still walking. He'd let him get away with it – let Daniel go with that smart-ass 'goodbye' he'd thrown at Jack, sounding like he'd expected their parting to be permanent. The Tok'ra who'd brought him back to the base had left him alone, unwilling to breach the stormy silence that clouded around the colonel like a thunderhead just looking for a lightning rod. The headache was still there, but now it throbbed with the cadence of Daniel's impassioned voice - stubborn did not even begin to describe the man. Just another thing the two of them had in common.

Jack wished he'd been able to see Hammond's face when he let him know that Daniel had just left on the Tok'ra mission – the general's response had sounded like an angry bear and was more than a little threatening to Jack's life and career if anything happened to the archaeologist. Dammit. How the heck had Jacob talked them into this one? What if the Reol chemical didn't work on Yu? What if Daniel forgot some trivial System Lord tidbit or pronounced one word just slightly off? What if Jacob didn't act fast enough to get Daniel out of there when the dead symbiote hit the fan? And what the heck was Jack thinking letting Daniel go off without his team there for back-up? It was not supposed to go down like this.

Jack's rapid stride down the grey hallways of the Tok'ra base hitched for a moment. What had Daniel said when he'd thrown that 'tough-guy' comment in his face? That that was Jack's shtick? Hell, yes – he was the big bad Air Force colonel with miles of black ops under his belt. Daniel's job was to be the team conscience and remind them, _endlessly_, Jack muttered to himself, that they were the aliens on these different worlds they visited and that other cultures had just as much of a right to be bastards as they did. He was supposed to dig in the dirt and enthuse about dead languages and bits of broken pottery. Jack's thoughts returned to the pile of equipment Daniel had left on that Tok'ra excuse for a bed: his Beretta and extra clips, his knife, his zat, books, his leather wrapped archaeology tools – why had he even brought them? Did he think he'd stumble on some kind of abandoned temple within the Tok'ra tunnels?

Weapons. Daniel had left all of his weapons here. The weapons that Jack knew his fingers itched to hold – small, fine brushes, trowels, pages filled with archaic languages – as well as the weapons that came so readily to Jack's own hands like the handgun and the knife. Weapons that Daniel had become quietly proficient with over the past four years. He was a dead shot, carried himself confidently in a fire fight, never backed down from a Jaffa three times his size, even when Jack wished he would. He tried to brush off the thought that Daniel was completely and utterly unarmed – with that brain he'd never be without resources – but the image of Daniel lying there in his own blood firmly clutching Jack's MP5 in Klorel's mothership suddenly plastered itself across his mind. His blue eyes had blazed from his pasty white face, a trace of bright red blood bubbling from his lips as Jack crouched next to him and thought of another shaggy-haired innocent face covered in blood.

It had started then. Right then, Jack had tried to switch off the father in him, the part of him he knew was reaching out to cup Daniel's face as he had his son's. When they all somehow survived he'd tried to step away, become a CO, hold the kid at arm's length rather than keep him safely right by his side. Damn. It hadn't been easy. That Daniel Jackson of their first few years had been so broken, his losses so raw and readable across his face that Jack didn't have the heart to push him away. To push any of them away. His 'kids.' What a mistake.

Daniel's own growing confidence, his willingness to call Jack on some pretty stupid decisions, his suddenly – at least it seemed sudden to Jack – restrained emotions and biting sarcasm that put his own to shame, shaggy-hair and sneezing things of the past – all those things had made it much easier for Jack to turn away. Daniel didn't need a father-figure, and Jack sure as hell didn't need to revisit the ragged emotional ties of his own past. The distance grew. And now, Jack realized, it had taken on a life of its own – the distance itself had begun to define the relationship between them.

_Relationship?_ When did that word become a part of Jack O'Neill's vocabulary? He buried his hands in the deep pockets of his BDU pants and lowered his head, knowing it forced the Tok'ra hurrying by to whatever plots they were plotting to dance out of his way as he blundered along. Yeah, okay, they related, they were relating, teammates, co-workers – God, _co-workers? _How lame was _that? _Even Kawalsky and Feretti had been more than co-workers, and he'd never shared half the crap with them that he and Daniel had endured together. They were good men, friends, buddies, men who'd watched his back, but they hadn't thrown themselves in front of a staff blast to save his life before they even knew him. They hadn't stayed at his side while an alien data bank took over his brain. And they never pissed him off nearly as much as Daniel did just by breathing.

_So little Daniel had grown up,_ Jack sneered to himself. Off on a solo mission to take out the bad guys. He could deal with that. _Right. _That's why the headache was threatening to make his eyeballs explode and why he had to keep his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't grab one of the scurrying Tok'ra and demand a way to communicate with Jacob's ship so that he could order the damned archaeologist back here double time. Time for some of that self-honesty that Daniel was always touting. It wasn't the fact that he'd pushed Daniel away that tore at him, shortened his already historically short temper, and honed the cutting edge of his sarcasm to a razor – that had been his plan, his decision. Let the kid stand on his own feet, find his own way, yadda, yadda. No, what had ultimately thrown the team dynamic off so completely that Teal'c was ready to rip him a new one and Hammond had begun to question his command was his reaction when Daniel had pushed back.

Okay, fine, it hurt his ego – he admitted it. And so his actions and words might have become a little more disdainful than playful, more downright dismissive than -. Jack stopped short and felt one of the Tok'ra barely brush across his side and shoulder as he wove his way past the suddenly immovable object in his path. Crap and crap. With all this introspection and naval gazing he felt like he was having some kind of clichéd mid-life crisis. Daniel wanted his independence? Great. They were finally on the same page. If it took some harsh wake-up calls for both of them to make that happen, so be it. Daniel could handle himself, he'd made that abundantly clear, hadn't he? Jack could leave the hand-wringing and second-guessing to Carter. As for him? He'd wait and see and make sure he planned a rescue mission with Ren'Al to haul back Daniel's sorry ass when another oh-so-well-laid Tok'ra plan went sideways.

The drone of a familiar voice reached his ears and he looked up to see Aldwin explaining God-knew-what in nauseating detail to Mansfield and SG-17. Something about Tok'ra crystals and life support – whatever. Jack made himself saunter slowly towards the group and found himself watching Mansfield and Elliot. Elliot had a pen and notebook in his hand, and was scribbling furiously, while Mansfield, standing right next to the raw young airman, stood scoffing. Huh.

"Colonel." Major Mansfield brought himself to attention as soon as he noticed O'Neill hovering behind the Tok'ra, and his men quickly emulated him.

"Sir." Elliot snapped.

Jack's casual smile actually took a great deal of effort. "Gentlemen. How goes the orientation?"

Elliot's expression brightened and Jack noted the humor lurking behind his wide eyes. "It's…very interesting, sir. Just as you predicted."

"Are you interested in Tok'ra engineering?" Aldwin asked, turning to the colonel in surprise.

"Oh, interested doesn't quite describe how I truly feel," Jack responded, watching his tone fly right over the sedate Tok'ra's head. Elliot managed to rein in his amusement, but Mansfield shot the kid a decidedly dirty look.

"Well, you're welcome to join us," the Tok'ra announced, apparently unaware of his position as the butt of the joke.

"Thank you, Aldwin," Jack slapped the Tok'ra on the shoulder warmly. "But I have to go help Teal'c… wait… for Daniel." Yeah. As funny as mocking the Tok'ra was, Jack couldn't let this thing that was building up between him and Teal'c get any worse. He nodded to the impassive leader of SG-17, flashed a shared grin at Elliot and strolled down the hall. _Kids._


	8. Chapter 8

Summit – Still Aboard the Cargo Ship

Daniel followed Jacob into the cargo ship's cockpit, still adjusting the unfamiliar clothes clinging to his body. He knew they were close to Yu's homeworld now – Jacob's manner was becoming more and more intense, more focused down to the mission details that all had to go right if the Tok'ra's plan was to work.

"I can get you into Yu's quarters. Your job is to get close enough to use this."

Jacob handed Daniel the ornate box containing the ring which had been treated with the mind-altering Reol chemical that had all of SG-1 believing they suddenly had a fifth member named Lt. Tyler. Daniel opened the box and removed the ring carefully, noting the sharp point extended from the outer surface. Close enough – well that sounded like fun, Daniel thought. He'd been close to a few System Lords in his time, and had the scars to show for it. He squinted down at the ring. His life was resting in that small piece of metal.

"All you have to do is prick him – once. The effect will be immediate." Jacob sat in the pilot's seat of the cargo ship and checked over the controls which he'd set to carry the ship to Yu's world on the equivalent of auto-pilot. "He'll believe you to be his loyal slave, Jarren."

Daniel slid the ring onto the index finger of his right hand, carefully keeping the needle turned inward. "Jarren?" Shouldn't Jacob have told him the slave's name earlier so he'd have a chance to get used to answering to it?

Jacob's eyes flicked over the controls, making sure that everything was ready, including the cloak he'd need to keep Yu from sensing his approach. Catching the note of anxiety in Daniel's voice, he looked up. "Just don't jab yourself with it," he smiled slightly.

"Why?"

Grimacing to himself, Jacob relented, realizing that comic relief wasn't doing it for Daniel right now. "Actually, I don't know, exactly. That in itself should scare you." He turned and placed both hands on the red crystal that functioned as the ship's steering and control mechanism.

Daniel mouthed the slave's name – his name, he reminded himself – over and over again as he eyed the slim needle. Maybe if he pricked himself he could forget all about Jarren, Yu, this mission, Jack O'Neill, and the SGC. That didn't sound so bad right about now.

~---~

Confrontation

Jack found himself making a careful appraisal of his surroundings when he slowly re-entered the Tok'ra conference room. No sign of unfriendlies, he noted wryly as he eyed the lone Jaffa standing stoically, hands behind his back, at one end of the long metal table, but no sign of any friendlies either. "Where's Carter?"

Even with his back to the open entranceway, Teal'c had sensed O'Neill's approach. "Ren'Al has escorted Major Carter to the laboratory. The Tok'ra seemed willing to answer some of Major Carter's questions about the symbiote Lantash."

"Well," Jack absent-mindedly leaned one shoulder against the door frame before choking back a gasp and standing abruptly. He eyed the narrow, sharp projections that seemed to grow from all of the walls in the Tok'ra base and ran one hand over his prickling arm. _Note to self – no leaning._ "That's a refreshing change, anyway," he finally finished his observation and slouched down the steps towards his teammate. Giving the conference table a swift but intense appraisal Jack shifted his right hip onto its surface and crossed his arms, eyes on the scuffed toe of his right boot as he swung his foot back and forth. "I know they've been stonewalling Carter for months."

Teal'c turned his head to bring his dark gaze to rest on the colonel's anxious figure, brows lowering. "Indeed." He watched the Taur'i's shuttered expression in silence, wondering if, this time the obstinate warrior could be drawn out. Teal'c had abandoned any further attempts to get the human to reveal the reasons for his brusque treatment of their young friend some time ago, after realizing that, after each attempt O'Neill's behavior had become that much more distant. That coolness had indeed transferred itself to Teal'c himself of late, and, although such disdain did not compromise his own confidence, it had affected his trust in O'Neill's leadership. The spirit of SG-1 which had once been so firm in its devotion had been damaged – seriously damaged - by its commander's withdrawal.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, O'Neill?" He tried to temper his voice to reveal his true desire to assist his brother, but he knew he barely managed to hold his anger beneath the surface.

Jack's head snapped up, eyes already narrowed. "Like what, exactly? How about what the hell was that temper tantrum about?" Seeing Teal'c jerk back in surprise at his caustic attack, Jack cursed to himself. _Great job, O'Neill. That should get the big guy to calm right down. _He watched the muscle in the Jaffa's jaw jump alarmingly. Stilling his wildly swinging leg, Jack put both hands out in mute supplication. "Look, I'm sorry, T. You're clearly a bit miffed about me agreeing to let Daniel go on this mission with Jacob."

Teal'c nodded. Jack waited a moment, but when the Jaffa still hadn't spoken he tried again.

"Feel like sharing?" He winced at the memory of those same bitter words directed towards him from the mouth of a friend.

The Jaffa swept around until he stood facing O'Neill squarely. "O'Neill. Have you forgotten how first we met?"

Confusion sped across the colonel's face. "No, I'm pretty sure I'll never forget you busting us out of that slimy snake-head's prison on Chulak." Jack had no idea where Teal'c was going with this, but at least he was talking. Jack could run with it for a while – it's not like he had anything better to do, like listening to Tok'ra engineering lectures. "You feeling all nostalgic or something?"

Teal'c ignored the attempt at humor. "I was the First Prime of Apophis, well-loved by the false god. It was I who chose the woman of the Taur'i and the wife of Daniel Jackson to come before him to be host to his queen."

"Yeah, I got that." Jack narrowed his eyes, hoping this little trip down memory lane was coming to its exit soon.

Unmoving, unmovable, Teal'c stood his ground and stared solemnly into the eyes of the leader of SG-1 – the man who had inspired his final act of rebellion that led him on this road to free the Jaffa all over the galaxy. He could easily remember the strength and courage in his actions, the fierce soul of the female warrior beside him, and the passion and devotion of the young scholar who would throw himself on the nonexistent mercy of the Goa'uld. He had not seen that O'Neill in many months, but he knew that the same heart of the fearless warrior and devoted friend still beat within him.

"O'Neill." Teal'c desired nothing more than to reach his brother. "You fought to keep me from the hands of your scientists who would have locked me away and performed experiments upon me. You convinced General Hammond that my knowledge of the Goa'uld and their societies could provide much information that would assist you in your battles. And, it was you who fought so vigorously to keep me from the justice of the Cor'ai."

Jack shook his head. "Okay, Teal'c, what the heck is going on?" He wasn't interested in a list of his heroic attributes at the moment. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"You once valued my contribution, O'Neill. In fact, you sought it out on many occasions when you were unsure of the Goa'uld's probable tactics or procedures."

"Well, sure, T – you're the one with the decades of experience around here. Everybody at the SGC knows you've got the goods."

Teal'c seethed. Was the man blind? Had he lost his reason? O'Neill was a youth by Jaffa standards, and the pressure put on one at such an age might easily have caused his careless behavior – but Teal'c did not yet question his first impression of his choice of ally. The Taur'i may have forgotten himself, but he would not rest until O'Neill again recalled the necessity of his reliance upon those members of his team who did not echo his own military perception. "If indeed I have 'got the goods,' O'Neill, then why was I not consulted concerning this mission among the System Lords?" He saw the impact of his whispered words rock the colonel backwards and he leaned forward to press the opening with which we was presented. "If you have not forgotten that I served as First Prime to Apophis for many years, then why did you not consider that I might have knowledge of these Lo'taur, and what Daniel Jackson might encounter in that role?"

Although the large Jaffa stood about three feet from his position on the edge of the table, Jack O'Neill sensed Teal'c's presence fill the room more and more with every question until he realized that he'd been unconsciously leaning backward to keep his distance. Covering his sudden jerk to straighten his posture with a quick rub to the back of his neck, Jack felt a wave of cold ire surge through him. He knew that a mask had slipped easily over his features, the one he'd worn for years in Black Ops, that he'd resurrected to play the bitter hot-head to bring down Maybourne and his cronies. And he knew that Teal'c saw it, too – knew it by his suddenly flat eyes and flared nostrils.

"Hear me, brother."

Jack blinked in surprise and the mask thinned. That sounded more like a plea than a command. "Okay, T." He folded his arms across his chest. "Enlighten me."

Teal'c acknowledged the slight bending of his teammate's armor with a careful nod. "I am sorry. I cannot teach you this with my words, O'Neill, until you begin to see for yourself."

"Now that sounds like the crap Daniel was spouting at that alien temple on Kheb." Jack quirked his mouth into a smirk. "Candlelight, fire, whatever." He waved one hand in the air. "Hey, if you're hurt because Hammond and I hashed things out behind closed doors after Ren'Al's little visit…"

The low grunt that greeted his statement told Jack that he was barking up the wrong tree if he was suggesting that Teal'c's pride was involved, but he'd be damned if he'd let Teal'c – or anyone else – blame him if they intentionally held back on important intel. "Hell, Teal'c, if you had something to say, what were you waiting for?"

"I was awaiting nothing, O'Neill," Teal'c snapped back. "You have made it clear in recent times that any decisions concerning the missions of SG-1 would be made within your military establishment and not, as was your strategy in times past, with the welcome input of Daniel Jackson and myself." He held up one large hand to hold back O'Neill's hasty response and watched the officer struggle to bite back a retort. He breathed deeply, swallowing his own impatience. He had allowed his frustration to color his argument with the deep dissatisfaction he felt concerning this mission their young friend undertook. Bowing his head in apology he tried again. "In this instance, you chose to rely on your own limited experience rather than seek for answers about that which you do not know."

"Now hang on a minute," Jack hopped from his perch on the conference table, bringing him nearly chest to chest with the Jaffa. "Since when haven't I gotten your take on a mission? I'm not sitting there alone at briefings, am I?"

Teal'c softened his voice. "For many months, it is as if you were, O'Neill. You, Major Carter, and General Hammond."

"Come on…" Jack shook his head, rejecting the Jaffa's observation. "That's nuts. Nothing's changed with the team…" At Teal'c's pointedly raised eyebrow he stuttered to a halt. Yeah, Daniel's attitude alone gave the lie to that statement. Jack twisted away from the big man's intent stare to pace along the metal chairs lined up behind the conference table. Simmons, the NID, Kinsey, the Russians – the usual SG-1 off-world meet and greet had been anything but usual lately. Surely Teal'c couldn't feel like he had much to offer when the job had more to do with Earth red-tape and politics. No, but habits are hard to break, and this mission was all about the snake-heads that Teal'c had lived with for all of his very long life. And he and Hammond had effectively shut out every member of his team.

A sinking pit opened in Jack's gut drawing away all warmth and breath. Hell. They'd sent Daniel off without a backwards glance – _he'd_ sent Daniel off – claiming greater good and strategic importance and sink or swim and all sorts of other damned military platitudes that set off a stink he should have noticed from a mile away. He brought both hands up to scrape through his short hair and pulled at it in frustration, a snarl of anger and regret forcing its way from his throat. That was one thing about being up to your neck in political filth – you sort of got used to the stench.

He whirled to face the Jaffa who stood, legs braced widely, arms carefully held behind his back. _So he wouldn't deck me?_ Jack wondered. _It's not like I don't deserve it_. Rude and unacceptable could not even remotely describe his thinking – or lack thereof – about this mission, and just add in the Tok'ra and you've got – Jack cut off his thoughts abruptly and settled himself into a stance that matched his teammate's, his hands shoved into his pockets so he wouldn't slip into one of those self-hugs that Daniel was famous for.

"Tell me."

Teal'c tilted his chin as if inquiry. "You cannot change your actions, O'Neill, nor call Daniel Jackson back from his intention."

Bitterness threatened to choke him. "Thanks, T. I really needed that reminder."

The Jaffa pondered his teammate silently, weighing the harm his words would do to the man before him with the necessity to prepare him for their young friend's condition upon his unlikely return.

Jack squinted and gestured. "Give."

Bowing in acceptance, Teal'c brought his thoughts back to his hated past as servant to the Goa'uld. "Apophis made use of many Lo'taur during my time in his service."

"'Made use of?'" Jack tried to stop his imagination before it got a firm hold on that phrase.

"Indeed. They were chosen from among the most comely of his human slaves from the worlds he ruled and were trained to serve Apophis' personal needs."

Jack's gut rebelled again. "Teal'c, no part of that statement is the least little bit okay. Are you telling me what I think you're telling me and I'm really hoping you're gonna say no, here, big guy."

"The Lo'taur were awarded many personal freedoms that others within the Goa'uld's household were not – some independence of movement, freedom from debilitating work, gifts of food or housing for their families. Many slaves welcomed the opportunity to serve – both male and female." O'Neill was a hardened warrior and yet his face paled as Teal'c calmly presented his thoughts. Teal'c continued his recitation of facts in an even tone, allowing the Taur'i time to process the facts as he could. "They were valued for their discretion as they were in close proximity to Apophis at every hour and heard many of his secrets." The Jaffa hesitated.

"Oh, hell, Teal'c." Jack just wanted to get it over with. "You're talking about…_shit_." He turned his back as if that would keep him from seeing the truth. _Daniel, you knew, didn't you?_

"It is a possibility only, O'Neill," Teal'c admitted. "You have met many System Lords – they are as different in their personal tastes as they are similar in treachery. It was well-known that Ra surrounded himself with children. Sokar blinded each of his Lo'taur to prevent them from seeing his face. Cronos received only old men as his personal slaves."

"Geez, Teal'c, enough!" Jack's hands flew up to punctuate his denial as he twisted to face the Jaffa. "Enough." Suddenly an explosion of anger burst through him. "And Daniel knew this – all of this." _Damn the man and his martyr complex._

His brows drawing down in confusion at the O'Neill's tone, Teal'c studied his warrior brother. "Daniel Jackson and I have had many discussions concerning the Goa'uld and their households. He never tired of studying the similarities between the Goa'uld and the Earth gods they chose to portray."

"Of course he did," Jack sighed, closing his eyes wearily. God, he was tired. "What about Yu – and I'm not in the mood for jokes," he added, slitting his eyes at the Jaffa.

Teal'c wasn't either. "Yu is oldest of the System Lords and still embraces the old ways. Much is unknown concerning his household, but the Tok'ra did not believe he abused his body slaves with any regularity. According to the notes left him by Ren'Al, Yu has recently taken a new Lo'taur as his previous slave was killed by one of his rivals."

"Well this news just keeps getting better and better!" Jack didn't know if he felt like laughing or groaning, and ended up with something in the middle, catching Teal'c off guard. Glaring away his friend's concern, he found himself gripping the back of one of the metal chairs with both hands as if he were trying to strangle it – or strangle one stubborn, threat-seeking, infuriating archaeologist. "Okay – this is what you wanted me to know? Intel about how totally screwed Daniel would be-" _Possibly literally._ Jack clenched his teeth before the words got away into the air where the gods in charge of torturing academics could pluck the idea out and use it against him. "- if we let him go on this mission?"

"Would you not have taken it into consideration before making your decision if you had known, O'Neill?"

Teal'c's gentle tone contradicted his intense gaze and Jack realized that his answer to this question might just make or break any hope of patching up SG-1. Jack forced himself to stop. Think. Politics and Kinsey and a massive strike against their enemies that could fend off the bureaucrats for years and possibly safeguard Earth versus the skin and psyche of one linguist/archaeologist. He forced himself to look up into those fierce dark eyes.

"Hell, yes."


	9. Chapter 9

Summit – Lantash in Stasis

Sam followed the Tok'ra scientist, her jaw clenched in frustration. So Ren'Al had finally decided that she deserved some kind of answers to her questions about the fate of Martouf and Lantash – she'd only been asking for a solid year. The incident – _incident, that was a good word, she thought to herself, nicely vague and emotionless, a word that kept the roiling emotions that had been coursing through her when she'd watched Martouf struggle against his programming at bay. It was her hand that had fired the killing second shot, it was trust in her own judgment that evaded her ever since. _The incident with the Tok'ra alliance and the zatarc detector had been the start of a year of complete internal chaos that left her both emotionally withdrawn and over-sensitive at the same time, her mind filled with the kind of second-guessing and social awkwardness that she thought she'd left behind at puberty. She'd allowed most of her friendships to fall by the wayside in order to pursue – or, at times, run headlong from – one relationship in particular. One with a decidedly human, if largely inaccessible man.

Lips pressed together firmly, Sam narrowed her focus._ Okay, she so didn't need to end up on that train of thought again._ Her eyes fixed on the small stasis chamber in the Tok'ra laboratory, Sam began listening in earnest, knowing that the famous Tok'ra 'spin' on their decisions concerning Martouf and Lantash was just beginning. Ren'Al might seem helpful at times, but the information she didn't choose to share with the Taur'i – even information about Daniel's mission with her father - was almost certainly the most important part of the story. She needed to get her head in the game, for both Daniel and her only connection to Jolinar's mate.

"As you know, Major, we kept the body in stasis for several months as we tried to find a way to repair the damage," Ren'Al manipulated keys on the alien control pad and the hexagonal stasis chamber rose into the air, Lantash encased firmly within. "In the end we were unsuccessful. All that remains of Martouf now lives on in Lantash."

Sam watched the bubbles rise in whatever liquid medium supported the motionless symbiote. Who did Ren'Al think she was kidding? The major knew all the Tok'ra wanted from Martouf was a peek inside his brain to try to study the effects of the zatarc conditioning – his recovery from his wounds would have seriously hampered that effort. Her eyes widened as she felt a sudden tug, a strange connection as if a thin, invisible wire stretched between her and the symbiote. Jolinar recognized him, even in stasis.

"What's its condition?" she heard herself ask, her voice barely a whisper.

Ren'Al shrugged. "The symbiote is still recuperating, but the search has already begun to find a new host."

_Of course it has,_ Sam thought. That's all it is ever about with the Tok'ra – their planning, their missions, their long-range scenarios all revolved around the predominance of the symbiote in what they continued to claim to be a completely shared life. She ground her teeth together. Daniel is recruited to fly off with Jacob – or was it really Selmac all along – on a mission that had only been half-explained, half-understood, simply because the Tok'ra saw all un-blended humans as fodder for their strategies. How many human hosts had these Tok'ra taken only to toss them aside when they were no longer useful? How hard had they really worked to heal Martouf?

"I want to see the research," Sam demanded.

"I'm sorry, major, but all information pertaining to zatarc technology can…"

"…can only be released on the authority of the council, I know," Sam interrupted, able to finish the Tok'ra's sentence quite easily; she'd heard it often enough lately. "They've been stonewalling me for months."

"I assure you, Martouf was in no pain." Ren'Al's strangely doubled voice reeked of sincerity, but Sam wasn't buying it.

"That's not the problem," Sam snapped. Jolinar's memories had never been easy to access, but the sense of duty that she shared with the symbiote had always come through quite clearly. Jolinar had done many things in order to get information for the Tok'ra – things that made Sam's skin crawl. She'd been willing to compromise her own soul with Binar on Netu, all in the name of furthering some strategy of the Ruling Council. Yes, Sam felt a deep sense of duty to her command and her country, but the Tok'ra's nearly mindless devotion went far beyond any normal allegiance. Whether it was because of their centuries long struggle or their dwindling numbers Sam didn't know, nor did she care at the moment. What she finally understood after three long years of seeking for answers, was that the Tok'ra would do anything, risk anyone – any unblended human that is – to beat the Goa'uld. Martouf had already become a casualty. And now they'd caught Daniel up in the same kind of life-or-death-_or-worse_ scenario by using his sense of honor and bitter hatred of the Goa'uld, as well as the SGC's current preoccupation with tangible, measurable gains against their enemy. If her father were here she'd gladly strangle him.

"If the symbiote was still alive when Martouf was taken out of stasis, wasn't there a chance that it could have healed his injuries?" Sam wondered if the Tok'ra would have the guts to be honest with her.

"The possibility was remote," Ren'Al hedged.

_Apparently not_, Sam observed. "How remote?"

"The host was too weak. In all likelihood the symbiote would have died trying to repair the damage."

And there it is. Given the choice between gambling the symbiote's life and possibly saving them both, or wrenching the only possible hope for the human host out by the roots on the off-chance that the symbiote might survive, the Tok'ra would pick the symbiote every time. They might not be Goa'uld, but they sure didn't mind risking the lives of everyone in the galaxy besides themselves – their symbiote selves that is.

"But you didn't know that for sure," she snapped.

"Well we had to make a choice," Ren'Al insisted.

"And naturally you chose the symbiote."

Ren'Al sighed. "Your bias towards the host is only natural. Surely it is better that one should live than that they both should die?"

It all sounded so plausibly reasonable, didn't it? But Sam knew the shallowness of Tok'ra ethics from the inside, knew just how easy it was for Jolinar to take her has an unwilling host to escape her own assassin, even if the symbiote had, finally, sacrificed herself when she was cornered. How else could they see the humans of the Earth but as half-alive, weak pawns to be worn like a suit or thrown into unknown danger whenever the need arose? How could the SGC have possibly trusted them again after Shaun'ac's death, especially with Daniel's life?

"Isn't this really about your zatarc research?" _Let's get the dirty truth out in the open, for once,_ Sam decided. Her diplomatic teammate wasn't here – he was off posing as a slave among a room full of conscience-less, megalomaniacs so that the Tok'ra could do research on their latest discovery. _I've got your number, Ren'Al, make no mistake about it._

The Tok'ra's eyes shifted away from Sam's intense gaze. "I don't understand."

_Like hell_. "If Martouf had lived you wouldn't have had a chance to examine his brain tissue – you wouldn't have learned anything."

"Would you really have preferred for his sacrifice to have been for nothing?" Ren'Al asked, her words sharp.

"I would have _preferred_," Sam sneered, "another way."

She could almost see the wheels turning within the Tok'ra's mind. After a moment's hesitation, Ren'Al leveled her gaze at Sam. "You knew Martouf well."

It wasn't a question, but Sam answered. "Yes."

"Well then, knowing him as you did what choice do you think he would have made?"

The Air Force major dropped her eyes, feeling the bite of tears that she would not, could not allow to fall in the presence of this woman. Of course Martouf would have sacrificed himself – it was so much a part of him, his inherent insignificance so deeply nurtured in his soul as a Tok'ra, that he'd give himself up easily. A cold weight against her heart made her breathing stutter and she suddenly saw Martouf's face alongside her absent teammate's. Why had she never seen the similarities in their natures before? Sensitive, determined, brilliant, talented diplomats, dedicated friends, having both lost the love of his life, and both entirely convinced of his own lack of value. Martouf would have ripped the symbiote from his own body rather than risk it, just as Daniel would happily sacrifice himself to save them all. Suddenly Sam wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere where the living embodiment of loss didn't lay in a stasis tank not two feet from her.

"Martouf is not entirely gone, major," Ren'Al turned her attention to the controls before her once again. "His thoughts and his memories live on in Lantash."

Sam let her eyes drift to the pale remains of Martouf's life. Thoughts and memories – is that all they'd have left of Daniel?

~---~

Approaching Yu's Stronghold

Jacob watched Daniel fidget with the zat in his hand within the ring transporter on the cargo ship, nervously opening and closing the weapon with a click and a fizz. He glanced over at the ship's chronometer again, knowing that he had to time their entrance into Yu's stronghold precisely if they wanted to catch Jarren while he was alone just before Yu emerged from the sarcophagus and the two ringed to Yu's own tel'tac. The Jaffa in the stronghold would immediately recognize that Daniel, his outfit unmistakable, didn't belong. The ring Daniel wore was only charged with two or three doses of the mind-altering drug, and they couldn't possibly get close enough to each of the hundreds of Jaffa guarding the oldest System Lord even if it held more. He knew that Daniel needed this mission to start – once he'd taken his first steps as Yu's Lo'taur, once he saw that the chemical in the ring would work, he'd settle down into the role, working on automatic pilot almost, as he utilized all of the skills he'd acquired as a part of SG-1. Right now, though, the young man's nerves were raw, one hand constantly fingering the belt pouch that contained the symbiote poison, a Tok'ra communicator, several doses of a powerful stimulant that Jacob had handed over a few moments ago, and… something else.

'He should not sleep,' Selmac had reminded him when they'd dropped out of hyper-drive. Jacob had been preoccupied with avoiding Yu's defensive satellites and the patrol vessels that constantly skimmed the planet's upper atmosphere, but he recognized the wisdom of his symbiote's words. Daniel needed to be awake and alert for as long as he was in the presence of the Goa'uld – sleep would only make him more vulnerable. He'd glanced up at the archaeologist's drawn face as he leaned against the support between the cockpit seats and wondered just how much sleep Daniel had been able to get last night after Ren'Al's briefing, his active mind anticipating this mission. Probably not much.

Finishing his adjustments to the tel'tac's navigation, Jacob leaned forward and reached into a small compartment at the right of the viewscreen where he kept emergency supplies. His symbiote reminded him of the appropriate dosage for a human and Jacob tore off a strip of small yellow tablets that would instantly dissolve in the warmth of Daniel's mouth – he might have to resort to using some of these himself if the summit was delayed. Hesitating a moment, he fingered a larger blue capsule, noticing the pointed silence of Selmac within him. This decision must be his own. He slipped the capsule into his hand.

Turning, he noticed that Daniel had straightened and that his eyes were locked onto Jacob's hand. Jacob rose and stepped towards the young man, a reassuring smile on his lips. He plucked the strip of tablets from his hand and held it up between them.

"Danny – Selmac reminded me that there's a possibility that one or more of the System Lords might be delayed. That means the Goa'uld would be sitting around twiddling their thumbs and looking for something to do." Jacob watched Daniel's eyebrows rise in alarm while his gaze remained glued to the yellow pills. "Our suggestion is that you don't make yourself vulnerable by sleeping. If you remain awake and visibly useful to Lord Yu it'll be much less likely that one of the other System Lords would get any ideas of ambushing you."

"Ambushing me?" Daniel was surprised by the dryness of his throat and hurriedly cleared it.

Jacob shrugged. "You read the reports. Human slaves can be targeted to prove a System Lord's weakness. The loss of respect can be devastating."

Nodding, Daniel tried not to think about what happened to Yu's last Lo'taur, but he'd bet the man lost a little more than respect. He took a deep breath and tried to tamp down on the bitterness that had been fighting to overwhelm his rising anxiety. He narrowed his eyes and focused – this was intel, this was information that he could use to stay alive.

"These are stimulants developed by the Tok'ra that are used by our human agents as well as our blended operatives," Jacob began, making sure that Daniel was following along. "At the first sign of fatigue, take one – it should last you about twelve hours, but the downside is that, once it's worn off, the crash can hit you hard. So, here's what I recommend," he held out the strip until Daniel took it. "Take one when you start to feel tired. Take another one ten hours later, and then another ten hours after that. Hopefully, you'll be out of there and we'll be well on our way back to Revanna by that time."

Daniel pursed his lips and looked up at Jacob. "Every ten hours. Got it, thanks."

Jacob smiled and watched Daniel begin to tuck the pills into the belt pouch when he stopped abruptly, a frown deepening between his brows.

"Ah, Jacob, how do you know they aren't going to search me? I mean, I'm carrying a Tok'ra communicator, the symbiote poison, now these…"

"And this," Jacob held up the blue capsule between his thumb and forefinger. He felt Selmac's unease but sent his symbiote warm reassurance. 'We would do no less for any of our operatives,' he stated firmly to the eldest Tok'ra.

His chain of thought interrupted, Daniel reached out for the drug, but Jacob pulled his hand back quickly, waiting for Daniel's eyes to flick to his face for an explanation.

"Danny, please don't think that I'm sending you in there with that room full of Goa'uld lightly." He hesitated, needing to say something to this young man, but also knowing that Daniel needed to keep his edge - exposing his emotions would do him no good when they were this close to their destination. "The Tok'ra have thought this through as well as they can, but the honest truth is that you're taking all the risks here, not SG-1, not the Tok'ra, not me." Daniel's simple nod closed Jacob's throat and it was a moment before he could go on. "You're bright enough to know that this could end badly in hundreds of different ways, including the very real possibility that you'll be threatened with implantation of a Goa'uld symbiote yourself."

"I understand that." Daniel's brow was still screwed up in a frown, but his voice was calm, quiet.

"If it seems likely – if there's no other way out, I'm offering you what every Tok'ra operative takes for granted on a mission behind enemy lines." Jacob let the capsule fall into his palm and held it up.

"Oh." Daniel blinked in understanding as he remembered Aris Boch's capture of the Tok'ra he'd contracted to deliver to Sokar. He let his hands hang at his sides. "Cyanide?"

Jacob winced. "Close enough." He waited to see if Daniel would reach out and take it, but the archaeologist remained motionless. Finally, Jacob grabbed one of the man's hands and tucked the pill into Daniel's sweaty palm, curling his fingers over it protectively. Taking another step towards him, Jacob cupped one hand around Daniel's cheek. "Don't let them take you alive, Danny," he spoke quietly, staring into the bright blue eyes. "I couldn't live with that."

After a moment he stepped away from Daniel's rigid posture and suddenly closed-off expression and strode towards the ring controls, his anger at the situation, at SG-1's apparent unconcern, and the way the young man standing there, waiting to risk his life, clearly believed himself to be completely alone. Selmac whispered to him but Jacob ignored him, knowing what the symbiote would say. _It was too important, too vital, they had to risk it. _Jacob heard Daniel step into the center of the rings behind him and glanced over at him, watching him work to smooth over each emotion that flashed across his face. Jacob turned away and closed his eyes a moment, knowing that he was undergoing his own transformation from concerned friend to Tok'ra field contact. He allowed Daniel another moment before handing him a zat.

"And no, they won't search you, Daniel," he finally addressed the young man's question. "Yu trusts his Lo'taur implicitly or he wouldn't have the position, and the System Lords have sensors to detect weapons, but they won't be concerned with anything else the slaves carry. That's all part of their arrogance, believing that no one can hurt them – and we're taking advantage of that." He looked up into Daniel's face again. _And of you. _"You ready?"

Daniel closed off the emotions that threatened to swamp him and rolled his shoulders. "As I'll ever be."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: First file I uploaded with this chapter ended up corrupted, so I've deleted it and resubmitted. Thanks for your patience.**

Summit – Daniel Serves /Extended Scene

Jacob motioned for Daniel to take his position at the end of a long curtain that divided Yu's private chambers from a small kitchen area. His left shoulder brushing against the plush red fabric, Daniel crouched and extended the zat towards his target – the unprotected back of Yu's Lo'taur, Jarren. The trip from the ring-room had been uneventful – uneventful but nerve wracking. Jacob was playing his role as a minor Goa'uld toadying up to the great System Lord Yu to the hilt, and his Selmac voice and casual cruelty made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Explaining Daniel away to the Jaffa guards stationed outside the ring room as a humorous offering to the System Lord, Jacob's light cuff to the back of his head had sent Daniel sprawling, and he'd barely retained his hold on his slave role in time to drop his head and act submissive when the Jaffa laughed and prodded him playfully. Following Jacob down the maze-like hallways, his eyes fixed firmly to the hem of the Tok'ra's ornate robe, Daniel concentrated on the last minute instructions Jacob had given him just before they'd ringed to the surface. Don't sleep. Make yourself useful. Stimulants every ten hours. And a little blue pill when it all comes crashing down around his head as it tends to do all too often. Got it.

Jacob stepped out into the room, glancing back at Daniel quickly before addressing the slave. "Jarren."

"My lord does not wish to be disturbed at this time," the slave didn't turn, but finished pouring steaming water into a small, dark teapot, and part of Daniel's mind wondered if the chemical in the ring would change Yu's perception of his voice as well as his physical appearance. The other part of his brain was too busy squeezing off a shot that enveloped Jarren in a cocoon of blue sparks just as he placed the teapot back on the open flame. Daniel rose to his feet in one movement and hurried around the fallen slave as Jacob grasped the man firmly by the arms and began dragging him towards a storage room down the hall. Jacob hadn't gone into many details in his explanation of how he'd keep Yu's forces from finding out that his Lo'taur hadn't accompanied his Master on this trip to the summit after all, and Daniel didn't ask too many questions – he'd received enough information lately concerning things he'd rather not know.

Daniel couldn't help staring at the slave's unconscious face. The slight Asian cast to his features made sense if Lord Yu had taken his original slave population from the ancestors of what were now the Chinese and Japanese peoples – the wide facial structure and folded eyelids were prominent attributes of the race. The slave's hair was just as short as Daniel's, but the facial hair was a bit of a surprise – plus the fact that the guy was shorter but had about 20 pounds on Daniel. Just how good was this Reol chemical anyway?

"You know I don't look a thing like this guy," he observed nervously.

"Well, luckily for this work you don't have to," Jacob reminded him. He looked up from his stooped position over the slave into Daniel's eyes. "You'll be fine," Jacob insisted calmly, and watched as Daniel mentally braced himself. "Just remember to pour from the right." That earned him the desperate flash of a smile before Daniel turned away to hide the zat in a nearby cabinet.

Daniel turned his back on Jacob, the slave, and his own existence as anything but the trusted Lo'taur of the oldest System Lord and picked up the tea tray, moving swiftly into the adjoining lounge area where Yu always had tea at this time of the afternoon. Jacob's intel told him that Yu and Jarren would be leaving for the summit in less than an hour – that their tel'tac was prepped and ready for them and they'd fly through the night to arrive at the summit the following morning. Being alone with Yu gave Daniel a much better chance of pulling off this impersonation, _unless you factored in the part about being alone with Yu_, he added to himself wryly. Daniel knew he had no more time to prepare– Yu would awaken shortly – and he tried to submerge his mind in Goa'uld, sifting all of his thoughts through the filter of the alien culture and language as he'd done on so many off-world meet-n-greets. The quickest way to make a mistake was to translate; Daniel had to switch off every language but Goa'uld, every cultural imperative but his slave status, every knee-jerk reaction to outside stimuli except that which would be appropriate to his station. This was true anthropology, becoming a member of your subject culture rather than an outside observer. He'd done it before, he reminded himself, of course, not with the weight of current expectations hanging over him or at such personal risk, but he had to allow those concerns to fall away. There was only now and there was only here. He could do this.

His quick footsteps took him into the center of the lounge and he glanced around for a place to put the tray. A long, low table swept down the center of the room, flanked by plush red chaises with heavy rolled arms for lounging. The table itself was burnished to a high shine that reflected the flickering lights of the flames that burned fiercely in scattered braziers, and the wall screens effectively gave the room an aura of privacy from prying eyes. He noticed the high counter set at the near end and Daniel set the tray down, reviewing the intricacies of the tea service as Jacob had explained it – not quite the full tea ceremony of the ancient Orient, but still a ritual that required precise timing and movement. Daniel frowned, mentally rehearsing the proper steps and making sure of the placement of the items on the tray when he caught the sound of footfalls behind him. He stiffened, a burst of rage consuming all of his well-placed arguments about cultural submersion and mission objectives. Suddenly all he could see was Shar'e's dead face.

He'd been lying to himself. This wasn't just another alien culture; this was a Goa'uld, the closest thing to pure evil that he'd ever known. This was the oldest living System Lord – not Apophis, not the one who'd stolen his wife from him forever, not the one who'd brainwashed Teal'c's son to use against him or tortured Sam in Netu, but the next worst thing. How could he possibly act the submissive loyal servant to one of these snakes long enough to win his trust, and, god, why should he even try?

"Kel shak, Jarren?" Yu's distorted voice held a greeting and a question. Daniel fought the urge to launch himself at this… thing… and wrap his hands around its throat. He frowned, searching for strength, for focus on this greater duty that he'd been thrust into. His enemy was here, right here, why wasn't he moving, striking, instead of standing here, muscles locked into immobility? A wash of futility settled over him like a cloak. Maybe Jack was right. He shouldn't have been trusted with something like this when he couldn't even make himself reach out and take the life of one of these things alone and unguarded. _That's not the plan, Daniel; get your head out of your ass._ Jack's command voice cut through his churning emotions and snapped his eyes wide, as effectively derailing his despair as if the man were standing there, a familiar snide, superior look on his face. Daniel looked down and turned the ring so that the point faced his palm, waiting, thoughts firmly locked onto one goal - getting the needle point of his ring into Yu's skin before he called his Jaffa. No matter what happened next, or didn't happen, he was standing here in Yu's stronghold holding a weapon that could either cripple the Goa'uld forever or, if it fell into the Goa'uld's hands, kill off the remaining Tok'ra just as easily.

"Aric kree, Onac!" Angry now, Yu's demand could be loosely translated as, _who the hell are you?_ Still Daniel waited, working to shore up his mental defenses and draw a mask of servility over his features, hoping the System Lord would be too incensed by the thought of a mere slave defiantly showing him his back to call for help. The fingers that suddenly clenched around Daniel's left shoulder so tightly that they bruised the bones told him that he'd been right to wait. He spun and grasped Yu's wrist with his right hand, the point of the ring jabbing deeply into the host's flesh. It was now or never. The fury on Yu's face dissolved into confusion and Daniel felt a brief surge of victory over the smug, overbearing alien. The System Lord searched Daniel's face and then let his eyes roam up and down his figure.

"Nis trah Jarren," Daniel forced his voice to softness, knowing that, no matter his Master's questions or behavior, his Lo'taur would immediately react with respect and deference. _Okay, Jack, I'll play this role, I'll be Yu's slave and shred my own dignity and soul for your mission. But don't expect to recognize the person who comes back._ He dropped to his knees and bowed his head, repeating the Goa'uld phrase. "I am your loyal servant Jarren." Not stubborn Dr. Daniel Jackson, not Shar'e's vengeful husband, certainly not a valued member of SG-1 - Daniel firmly convinced himself as well as his Goa'uld Master.

Yu unclenched his fingers and withdrew his hand, his face returning to its customary haughty expression as he gazed down on the bowed head of his slave. "Rise." His eyes never left the calm features of the Lo'taur as Daniel stood quietly under his scrutiny. After a moment Yu turned and stepped away and Daniel felt his tight muscles relax just a bit, knowing that the act of showing 'Jarren' his back displayed Yu's complete belief that the slave was neither a threat nor worthy of his respect. Jarren knew his place. The System Lord clasped his hands behind his back and shifted once again to watch his Lo'taur. "I will have my tea."

Daniel quickly picked up the tray, every inch Yu's personal slave eager to please his Master, and followed the Goa'uld to the low table. He felt Yu's stare and knew that it never wavered as he knelt beside the comfortably seated Goa'uld and began the ritual of the tea service. He bowed, forehead touching the floor briefly before setting the cup before his Master and, pouring slowly so that the aroma of the tea would fill the room, he did not even flinch when Yu drew the back of his knuckles down the sensitive skin inside Daniel's forearm in a caress.

"Is all prepared for the journey?" the Goa'uld asked, drawing Daniel's eyes away from their focus on the table setting to flick to his face.

"Yes, my lord," Daniel ducked his head quickly, hoping that Jacob's information was right and that it was true. If the real Jarren hadn't already finished his preparations in the tel'tac, Yu would likely begin suspecting a rat before the journey began. That would be bad. He placed the teapot back on the tray and concentrated on arranging the dish of bite sized savories next to his Master's cup at the proper distance and angle.

Yu dropped his hand to stroke Daniel's thigh once before reaching for his cup. "This pleases me."

Daniel breathed slowly, in and out, keeping his face carefully blank while denying his body the immediate shudder of revulsion it so craved at the intimate contact. Jarren expected, even welcomed this, but, inside, Daniel cursed and leaped on a way to divert Yu's attention.He hesitated for a second, head still bowed at Yu's side before he looked up. "Do you have any final instructions, my lord?"

Yu picked up a morsel from the plate and turned to meet Daniel's eyes. "You have eaten?"

His mind spun, quickly sorting through every book he'd ever read about ancient oriental culture. Slaves did not eat with their masters unless ordered to do so, and the implication of the question seemed to be that Jarren would have taken care of his own needs before his Master awoke so that his every attention could be focused on his service. Daniel risked a nod.

"Very good," Yu replied, holding Daniel's gaze while he placed the tiny dried cake into his mouth and chewed slowly. "I find myself eager to begin this journey to meet with my colleagues," Yu drenched the word with malice and his lips curled in scorn. "The fools," he added a moment later, his gaze wandering to stare into the distance as if focused on a scene that played out within his long memories. "Time is vast and they worry over trifles."

Clearly no response was expected so Daniel kept still, content that the System Lord's thoughts were on something besides his Lo'taur for the moment. The Goa'uld ate and drank with small, delicate movements and Daniel waited patiently, attentively, pouring again as Yu's subtle body language prompted, earning another fleeting touch on his arm. Smoothing an ornately brocade napkin over his lips, Yu stood and Daniel began reaching out to collect the tea things from the table when the light brush of two fingers against his jaw stopped him. He looked up into the Goa'uld's dark, steady gaze, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Leave it for the others," Yu ordered, motioning for his slave to rise to his feet. Daniel stood and kept his eyes down, watching Yu fold his hands into his wide sleeves. "Jarren." The single name snapped from the Goa'uld's throat and drew Daniel's head up abruptly. "You accompany me on this journey as my Lo'taur, first among my servants, honored at your distinction. This will serve as a test of your loyalty, devotion, and value."

Daniel nodded, opening his mouth to assure the Goa'uld of his awareness of the weight of his trust but Yu's raised hand halted him again. Yu's eyes narrowed in a brief flash of gold that caught Daniel's breath in his throat and threatened to undo his tight control. His stiff fingers found the edge of Daniel's jaw and clamped there like a vise, holding his head firmly as he leaned closer. "Fail me and your punishment shall be swift." The fingers released their grip slowly and Yu stroked his thumb along the bruise that would shortly form beneath Daniel's jaw line. "Please me and your reward will be equally rich."

"My only reward," Daniel held his gaze and his voice level, "is to continue in your service, my lord."

Yu regarded him closely for a long moment before allowing his hand to find its way back to its place within the silk of his sleeve. He turned, nodding to himself, and strode towards the door. "As it should be."

Daniel tightened his lips at the retreating figure until they were white before composing himself and straightening his belt. A few seconds later Jarren followed his Master from the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Summit - Zipacna Attacks

Warning klaxons seemed to sound the same no matter the alien world, ship, or hideout – someone a long time ago had figured out what kind of alarm would cut through the deepest sleep or the heaviest conversation and send anyone within earshot running to turn the damn thing off before their eyeballs exploded. The blaring sounds and the hurrying Tok'ra urged Jack and Teal'c into the tunnels for an explanation even as the deep assurance of his own narrow-minded stupidity had finally grabbed Jack by the balls. The soldier in Jack had no trouble pushing it all to the sidelines – all the worry, the doubt, the completely unwanted knowledge that he'd been too wrapped up in exactly that soldier mentality to take a good hard look at the planning – or lack thereof – for this so-called mission that sent Daniel far away from help and into a nest of snakeheads. Yeah, he could do this. In fact, that Tok'ra alarm couldn't have come at a better time.

Heading in what he hoped was the right direction to join up with Carter in the lab, Jack was relieved to see Ren'Al and his 2IC coming towards them. "What's going on?"

Ren'Al kept walking. "We've received a transmission. Our sensors on the surface have detected a fleet of motherships bound for Revanna. You must leave immediately." She walked quickly, leading SG-1 towards the rings that would take them to the surface of the planet, the Stargate, and escape, but fleeing Tok'ra from the corridor ahead made them slow their pace.

Aldwin appeared, his face set. "An incoming wormhole is blocking our escape at the Stargate," he warned, breathing heavily.

Words blared from hidden speakers, urging Tok'ra to safe escape routes, but the expression of helplessness on Aldwin's face and the way Ren'Al's hands fluttered in disbelief made Jack's eyes narrow dangerously. He knew that the Tok'ra didn't have enough ships to organize an effective withdrawal from the underground base – they relied on secrecy to safeguard their operation, and a massive bunker of tel'tacs or motherships wouldn't have been very easy to hide. Superior technology or not, these guys were tactical morons, he thought, not for the first time, and wondered again how they'd managed to survive so many centuries fighting the Goa'uld. Maybe the steady decline in their numbers had more to do with bad use of resources than a low Tok'ra birth rate as they claimed. A niggling little voice at the back of his mind tried to remind Jack about his own less than stellar use of resources lately, namely team resources, but he managed to stifle the voice that bore a decided resemblance to one stoic Jaffa's.

"The Goa'uld can only sustain a wormhole for 38 minutes," Carter advised, her mind racing to find a possible solution to the sudden crisis.

"The ships will be here before then," Ren'Al shook her head.

Aldwin stared at the Tok'ra scientist. "There is no other escape."

~---~

Yu's Tel'tac/ Summit – Arrival at the Space Station

Daniel sat, knees drawn up to his chest, his back and head resting against a large metal crate that bore Yu's mark as he gazed up at the ceiling of the Goa'uld ship. Their journey to the System Lord's cargo ship had been, well, abrupt – Daniel had been startled to find Yu waiting for him just outside the doorway of the lounge and had stumbled to an ungraceful halt before feeling the firm grip of one of Yu's hands tightening around his elbow as the Goa'uld pulled him closer. The flash of the ring transporter sent a wave of relief through the archaeologist and he managed to stand quietly, face to face with the System Lord, much closer than was comfortable, until the rings dropped back to hide within the tel'tac's flooring. Yu had retained his grip for a moment, his hooded eyes staring into his servant's before releasing him.

"You may rest," Yu muttered, his eyes flicking over the crates of supplies lining the walls of the ship's hold as if to satisfy himself that nothing had been forgotten. "You will attend me upon my request."

"Thank you, my lord," he'd lowered his eyes until he heard the swish of the Goa'uld's robes recede as Yu moved towards the cockpit. Daniel had moved slowly, maneuvering himself to a far corner of the small area so that he could keep watch on the open doorway to ensure plenty of warning if the System Lord returned. He leaned back against the gold crate and slid slowly to the floor, the adrenaline that had been fueling his movements suddenly gone leaving him trembling with suppressed emotion. His mouth tightened and he felt his eyes narrowing as an unexpected rush of hot fury swept through every nerve ending until his fingers and toes clenched painfully. His intentions to stay alert and on guard died quickly, victims of the heave and pitch of his thoughts, not the Goa'uld ship, and Daniel wrapped his arms around his legs, forehead pressed against his knees and eyes tightly closed.

_This is insane. _The words echoed and re-echoed through Daniel's mind as he fought to find his balance. What happened to that cool detachment of a scant few minutes ago in Yu's stronghold, the confidence that this was just another mission, another opportunity for SG-1's cultural expert to put his specialized knowledge to use in order to reach the goal, bring back the technology, or get his team home alive? If he was going to lose it every time he felt the touch of the dead host's hand against his skin, he wasn't going to stay alive long enough to accomplish anything. Daniel snorted quietly: _it hadn't taken long, had it? _So confident, so determined to prove everyone wrong, to show them that the peacenik geek could bring down the combined weight of the System Lords without the military's help. Daniel was finding that holding his tongue was much easier than holding on to his flailing emotions. _Typical. Over-confident civilian_. Jack's voice haunted him.

_Dammit, Jack. This isn't my job. I'm not the ex-Black Ops badass who can lie without a qualm to his friends and convince the target of his willing betrayal of his country in just a week. I haven't been trained to strangle my emotions into submission and act like someone I'm not._ The anger flared again, as Daniel thought of the hard sheen in Jack's eyes as he sat across his living room and told his supposed friend that he'd never really known him at all. And he'd fallen for it. Daniel blew out a long breath and tilted his head from side to side where it rested against his knees, his lips curving up into a smile as the anger washed away. _God, I'm an idiot._ _Jack and General Hammond were right, but my stupid pride wouldn't let me see it and now it's too late._

A moment later he jerked awake, lifting his head and blinking the recalcitrant contact lenses into focus. Apparently the steady hum of the hyper drive engines had gotten together with his mental and physical exhaustion to pull Daniel into a doze. Fumbling in his belt pouch, Daniel kept his eyes on the doorway while he identified the sheaf of tablets Jacob had given him by touch. Peeling one small round away from the others, Daniel raised his fingers to his mouth and placed the tablet under his tongue, cringing at the bitter taste as the stimulant dissolved instantly. He steadied his breathing and leaned his head back against the shipping crate, waiting for the drug to take effect. A few moments later he noticed that the subdued lighting had taken on a strange oily sheen as if a very sheer curtain swirled before his eyes. He felt his pulse quicken and his tumbling thoughts sharpen. _Better._ Jacob had said to take one every ten hours. Daniel sent a fleeting look to his bare wrist and hoped the Goa'uld went in for decorative time pieces at their meeting. He fidgeted into a slightly more comfortable position and concentrated on mentally reviewing the Tok'ra intelligence while he was alone, without the constant anxiety of one wrong answer to Yu's casual inquiries destroying his cover. He was here now. There was no turning back.

"Jarren." The System Lord's soft call a few hours later sent Daniel stumbling to his feet, breathing hard, locked into fight or flight mode. He caught himself – again – and cursed silently, shaking fingers reaching to smooth out any wrinkles his thin garments had acquired from his position on the floor before he walked to the cockpit.

"My lord?" He stopped behind the empty chair to Yu's left, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders straight.

Yu motioned to the co-pilot's chair without raising his eyes and Daniel slid into the seat, automatically taking note of the ship's heading and speed. He'd been at the controls of both tel'tacs and ha'taks in the past and could read the Goa'uld technical symbols quite easily. The course that Yu had set to the space station was full of twists and turns, doubling backs and unnecessarily roundabout paths, confirming the notion that the System Lords were a paranoid bunch who took deception and subterfuge as a natural part of life. Setting a straight course to the meeting place with only one lo'taur and an unarmed ship would be tantamount to inviting his enemies to slit his throat. Daniel nodded to himself and raised his eyes from the instruments to Yu's face.

The System Lord busied himself with the controls for a moment, sliding a switch along the circumference of the red crystal in a way that Daniel recognized – he was setting the craft onto an automatic, programmed course through space. Jacob had warned Daniel that Yu might relinquish the controls to his lo'taur once the journey had begun and he hitched forward, sitting on the edge of the seat in preparation for rising. _Good, he could do this._ Until it became necessary to resume travel in normal space and dock with the space station, flying the tel'tac was more tedious and boring than anything else, and Daniel welcomed the opportunity to set his thoughts to something mundane and familiar.

Daniel's movements were stilled by Yu's frown and he froze, moving only his eyes to follow the Goa'uld as he rose to his feet to disappear behind Daniel's chair. The feel of a warm hand gently squeezing the back of his neck made Daniel's head snap up, eyes focused on the glowing tunnel through hyperspace and a short quiet laugh behind him told Daniel that his reaction was not unexpected. Yu slipped his hand up so that his thumb and index finger stroked the short hairs at Daniel's nape, the strength of his grip pushing his lo'taur's head down until it was bowed over the controls. Daniel felt Yu's hand lift until just the tips of the Goa'uld's fingers lingered against his skin, tracing the line of his spine from the base of his skull to the heavy collar that sat on his shoulders and up again.

"Did you rest well?"

Daniel struggled to keep his voice steady. "Yes, my lord."

Another laugh propelled a flutter of warm breath against the archaeologist's skin. "Liar." Yu turned his hand to cup Daniel's neck again, the muscles there iron under his touch. "Your body betrays you."

Trying to relax, to transfer the tension in his neck to the fists that clenched tightly against his thighs where the Goa'uld couldn't see them, Daniel considered his options. "Master, I am concerned that I win your approval by my service at the summit. I do not wish to disappoint you." He prayed the nervousness that shook his voice would be attributed to devotion to his Master.

"You will not," Yu stated simply, carding his fingers through Daniel's hair. Silence fell over the cockpit as Yu stroked his lo'taur as if he were a pet. "Yield," he ordered, and Daniel felt his lips tighten into a line as the Goa'uld's hand traced down his back. _Yield?_ His mind grasped for a likely response as Yu's fingers deftly worked the catch that kept the leathery yoke atop Daniel's shoulders in place. He pulled the garment off and placed it carefully on the console between the pilot seats before resting both hands lightly on the young man's shoulders. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut as the Goa'uld's hands moved down over his upper arms, sliding the thick, white armbands from his biceps to rest around his fists where his fingernails were burrowing into his palms.

The Goa'uld suddenly gripped Daniel's upper arms painfully pulling his shoulders back until the linguist sat upright in the seat once more, face forward. Daniel quickly schooled his features into calm, mentally smoothing the furrow that he knew dug deeply between his brows, and took a long slow breath.

"Better." The System Lord's grip slowly lessened. "Count your breaths," he chanted softly, "as I have taught you. Yield your awareness." His fingers moved rhythmically now, small sweeps up and down Daniel's arms, his back, his neck.

A soft, patient voice replaced Yu's harsh one in Daniel's memory, and it was almost as if he could smell the burning wick and see the fluttering flames behind half-closed lids. The gold script that filled the walls of the temple on Kheb translated itself into Zen cones in his memories. Daniel's muscles relaxed unconsciously. The Goa'uld behind him had taken on the persona of the ancient Eastern Jade Emperor, had immersed himself in Asian culture and belief, the foundation of Zen philosophy. He could do this; he could filter out the unwanted caresses, the lingering touches, and take his mind to that other level that transcended his physical body. Daniel felt himself shift into a familiar position, folding his legs beneath him, knees pressing into the seat, hands relaxing in his lap, head balanced on his neck as his chest expanded and contracted slowly. This was safe. This was welcome. He let his thoughts tumble from their frantic pace into the state of near kel-no-reem that he and Teal'c now shared at difficult times.

He didn't know how long it lasted, but gradually Daniel noticed that Yu's hands had withdrawn. Taking one more deep breath he opened his eyes and realized that the ship's exit from hyperspace had brought him to wakefulness – the stars were back, glinting in the blackness of normal space, and the large alien space station was just coming into view. Glancing to his right he watched Yu's fingers dance along the controls before raising his eyes to the System Lord's quiet scrutiny. Yu nodded, once, as if in approval and turned his attention back to the tel'tac's navigation.

Daniel quickly pushed the armbands into position and re-fastened the leather piece around his neck. He brushed his hands through his short hair and waited, wondering how long it would take for the deep sense of peace to drain away and leave him the same shivering wreck that Yu had first dragged aboard. The space station filled the viewscreen faster than he expected and the crackle of the Goa'uld communicator made it very clear that Daniel had no more time for fear or self-doubt. His inner demons that resembled Jack O'Neill at his most offensive would just have to be quiet and let him think.

"Identify yourselves." The disembodied command sent Daniel's gaze back towards his Master's. Yu nodded again.

"I represent the Jade Emperor, the exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti," Daniel stated clearly, depressing the toggle that sent his voice though the dark void to the space station.

A moment's hesitation and the Goa'uld spoke again. "Two lifesigns scanned. No weapons detected. Lowering shields."

Yu maneuvered the cargo ship to its docking ramp and Daniel heard the dull clang as the connections were made. As he powered down the systems, Yu suddenly turned to his lo'taur.

"My fellow System Lords are not to be trusted," he seethed, dark gaze intense and piercing. "Neither are their slaves."

Daniel ducked his head. "Understood, my lord."

The Goa'uld rose and gestured Daniel to stand before him as if for inspection, his fingers flicking to touch him here and there, adjusting, smoothing, before one hand settled against Daniel's cheek in a sign of possession more than concern. Dropping his hand, Yu moved towards the exit. "So, it begins," he sighed.

Daniel gripped his hands behind his back. _You're wrong. This began a long time ago._


	12. Chapter 12

Holding My Breath 12

Summit – The Tok'ra Scramble

Jack didn't realize that his respect for the Tok'ra could get any lower, but after half an hour of watching them scurry through the underground base as if their pants were on fire without making any actual defensive plans he was running out of patience. Making more tunnels to complicate their energy signatures would only spread out the Goa'uld attack, it wouldn't make it any easier to evacuate the remaining Tok'ra to the few unarmed tel'tacs they had stashed on the planet, and, so far, that was the best plan Aldwin and Ren'Al could come up with. The colonel sent SG-17 off to render any assistance possible with the fetching and carrying, but mentally questioned the tactic of splitting up the two earth teams. Mansfield was a veteran, but the other members of his team were all raw recruits to the SGC, and he didn't want the panic he'd seen in the Tok'ra's response to this attack to infect the young men. He didn't want them learning any of the bad habits he had – including the insidious thinking that, just because an alien race had been around a long time and had access to some fancy equipment, that they were able to plan and organize a defensive or offensive strategy that actually had a prayer.

As Ren'Al led them back to the conference room, Jack stationed himself at the entrance, watching as Teal'c automatically mirrored his movements and took his place at the only other doorway. He'd seen little if any military discipline displayed by the Tok'ra during this visit, but then again, he hadn't seen any evidence of an actual Goa'uld attack yet, either – no bombs, no over-the-top threats, or Jaffa incursions. He narrowed his eyes, his bullshit detector springing to attention as Ren'Al let Carter know that she was cutting all power to the base to further hide their presence. Wait a minute. Why was Aldwin growing new tunnels to supposedly widen the target area if they were just going to cut off their power source anyway? He turned to watch the Tok'ra woman for a moment, not bothering to hide his suspicions.

"Colonel, the Tok'ra have never had the military resources of the Goa'uld. We use disguise and subterfuge to achieve our goals, our bases are designed to be hidden – we are just not equipped to repulse such a large enemy force."

"Well they're not just going to go away," Carter snarled, meeting Jack's gaze momentarily, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Ren'Al was not amused. "I can assure you, major; if this base is compromised we will fight until the last of us is fallen."

Jack saw the tensing of Carter's jaw as she lowered her eyes in a semblance of agreement with the Tok'ra's dramatic statement. She knew. Big gestures and romantic-sounding outpourings of devotion were not what was needed here, unfortunately, since that was what the Tok'ra seemed to excel at. 'Disguise and subterfuge,' Ren'Al had said. Yeah. And no thought of exit strategies, Plan Bs, or tactical options to go along with it. Just what had the SGC let themselves in for with this alliance? And just what kind of exit strategy had Jacob taken with him and Daniel on their big mission into Goa'uld territory? Had all of the battle-ready thinking of the former Air Force general been completely absorbed by the Tok'ra within him? Like Ren'Al, were his only thoughts concerning this mission of Daniel's victory or death? A cold hand seemed to clutch at Jack's heart. He hadn't even asked.

And just how were these Tok'ra planning to 'fight until the last of us has fallen?' Jack hoped they had a stash of weapons or explosives to back up that claim, but he knew they didn't. "With what," he finally asked, sarcasm drawing his mouth tight, "zats?"

Ren'Al's answer wasn't unexpected. "What else is there?"

"Well," Jack knew the SG teams' weapons wouldn't last long in the face of an all out Jaffa offensive, but his mind spun for options. "You've got that poison, and if it's half as good as you say it is it could wipe out any potential ground assault." Let's just see how ready you are to "fall" on your own swords, lady.

"And risk killing every Tok'ra on this base as well?"

Yeah, that's kinda what he expected. The grand dramatic gesture of laying down their lives to kill the Goa'uld didn't stand up to much scrutiny, did it? "Hey, we're all gonna die if we sit around and wait for the attack," he reminded her.

The Tok'ra dropped her head to her chest and Jack knew that the symbiote had relinquished control for a moment. "Believe me," the human host insisted, "if it came down to it, we would sacrifice ourselves and use the poison on our enemy if we had some. Unfortunately the only quantity in existence is in Selmac's possession. It would take weeks to synthesize more."

Huh. Jack didn't know whether to smack himself in the head or shoot her. Of course. Leave it to the Tok'ra to mix up only one batch of 'Goa'uld-Away' and send it off on a suicide mission. His anger flared again. Suicide mission. Dammit. That's exactly what it was. He'd sent his best friend on a suicide mission on the off-chance that the Tok'ra had come up with a plan that worked. Grinding his teeth he followed Ren'Al from the conference room, eyes suddenly blinded to the imminent danger that apparently loomed in the skies above Revanna. Without much encouragement he'd gladly leave the Tok'ra to take care of their own evacuation, grab his people, and hop the next tel'tac to drag Daniel back to Earth by his ear, mission or no mission.

~---~

Summit – The System Lords – Extended Scene

"Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti." One lo'taur stood at the entrance to the large conference chamber, head bowed respectfully, as Yu and Daniel approached through the long corridors of the space station. His words made a quiet impact on the beings assembled there, and Daniel tried to keep his face blank as he got his first look at the System Lords and their personal slaves. It was not difficult to tell them apart. First there were the gaudy outfits that reflected the culture from which each System Lord had stolen his or her identity, not to mention the lack of taste that seemed to be a given when dealing with Goa'uld – the slaves, beautiful young men and women, were wearing… less, and each costume was clearly designed to flaunt their servitude. Whether the shackles were made of leather, silk, or ivory, the symbolic fetters were there – from the young man who had announced their entrance down to the one kneeling beside his master's chair, eyes downcast in humility.

Daniel glanced over the gathering, mentally cataloguing those he found there, who was speaking with whom, who stood aloof from the others, putting the names from the Tok'ra files with the faces. He was surprised when Yu turned away from the room to pace around the circumference.

"Look at them, Jarren," Yu began as Daniel moved to catch up to his Master, staying one pace behind the Goa'uld's left shoulder, hands firmly clasped behind his back. "My future allies," he added with spite.

Yu had positioned himself on the inside ring of the circle that he paced, the light from the room catching his own ornate robes and leaving Daniel to stride along in the shadows beside him. The System Lord kept his own eyes forward, but Daniel noticed the subtle strategy that allowed Yu's lo'taur to watch those standing in the center of the room while his scrutiny was masked by darkness. He turned his head and observed the icy gazes of the two nearest Goa'uld that swept over Yu.

"Bastet and Kali the Destroyer," Daniel breathed, taking in the Egyptian-style headdress on the cat-goddess and the jeweled net that screened the Hindu deity's face. At Yu's tiny nod, he went on, hoping that he had guessed correctly that Yu was taking mental inventory of his supposed allies. "They made a treaty with Sobek and then moved against him during the celebratory feast. Sobek let his guard down, and, rumor has it, his head still decorates Bastet's palace in Bubastis." Another Ancient Egyptian god-figure, daughter of Ra, mother of Khonsu, with two distinct sides, one peaceful and one vicious. Kali, from the Hindu pantheon, consort of Shiva and the very personification of annihilation. According to the Tok'ra, these two had been uneasy allies for centuries. Concentrating on his studies, Daniel nearly missed Yu's whispered comment.

"You have a good memory and are still worthy of my allegiance." Daniel blinked, reminding himself of his place here. He wasn't walking along at Jack's side, explaining the cultural background of a new world, trying to get in as many words as possible before the man cut him off and did whatever he pleased anyway. He took a deep breath as his eyes fell on the tall, bearded Goa'uld in an intense discussion with the lo'taur who had announced them. Was there a significance here, that Ba'al's lo'taur had some sort of role in these proceedings? The Tok'ra intelligence did mention that Ba'al was devious, preferring to manipulate others into fighting his battles for him, and that he was perhaps the next most powerful System Lord after Yu himself. Ba'al – the Canaanite god of storms and fertility, son of Dagon and husband of Anat – overcame many other gods to cement his rule over the Middle East of Ancient Earth.

"Do not accept gifts from Ba'al," Yu muttered, unable to resist a scornful glance at the System Lord.

"They have a habit of exploding," Daniel continued, "especially when he feels he has been slighted. He wiped out the inhabitants of two star systems, 60 million lives, rather than lose them to Sokar in a territorial dispute." Ba'al and his lo'taur stood, heads bowed, almost touching, and Daniel swallowed a lump of dread at the intimate posture.

"Poor loser," was Yu's only comment.

A red-haired woman, whose broad shoulders were covered with leather pads turned to face them and motioned to her own servant. Wow, Daniel felt his eyebrows inch upwards. Her outfit seemed to be made in the style of leather armor, clearly announcing her warrior status, but left plenty of room to show off her more, um, obvious assets as well. This must be Morrigan. The slave that had been kneeling beside an empty chair rose and approached his Mistress. If he thought Ba'al and his lo'taur were intimate, Morrigan's casual caress of her slave's bare chest left no doubt in Daniel's mind as to his other duties. She leaned close and whispered in his ear while her sharp gaze locked with Daniel's for a moment as his path took him through a stretch of light.

"Do not consort with Morrigan's servant," Yu warned, his raspy voice suddenly full of ire.

The intel concerning Yu's last lo'taur had made for disturbing reading. "He will attempt to draw out strategic information in seemingly idle conversation," Daniel added. He glanced at Yu's back. "I know your last servant unwittingly gave away the location of one of your secret bases in Valon – to his credit he was killed in the surprise attack. It is what has given me the honor to serve you, my lord." Just how he managed to get Yu's lo'taur talking is what disturbed Daniel the most. Apparently the slave had lost all inhibitions during pillow talk. Morrigan's lo'taur was certainly…obedient.

The garish costume of the final System Lord caught Daniel's attention. In all of their run-ins with Goa'uld, they had never before encountered one claiming cultural background among the African nations. Olokun, the West African 'Owner of Oceans,' could be either male or female, and was renowned for depth of wisdom and endurance, while personifying royalty and power. The personality reflected on this System Lord's face, however, was one of sulking petulance and bad temper.

"Olokun is still seething over a recent loss to my forces." Yu turned slightly to address Daniel over his shoulder as the two reached the entrance to the conference hall again. "He may try to kill you out of spite. Do not make me look foolish by allowing yourself to be murdered."

Daniel stifled a one-sided grin. "Yes, my lord." Yep, the lo'taurs were certainly highly valued in their masters' eyes. Maybe Jack had been hanging around the Goa'uld for too long, but Daniel definitely saw a strange similarity in behavior between the colonel and the System Lord, at least when it came to their respect for a certain civilian subordinate.

Yu walked forward, formally joining the gathering and Ba'al broke off to welcome him with a shared bow. _Interesting,_ Daniel thought. _Ba'al is acting as host here, and he and Yu apparently share at least an outward show of mutual respect_.

Ba'al raised his head and stared scathingly at Yu's implacable features. "I am pleased you were able to join us, given recent events." He hesitated a moment. "I understand that your fleet suffered some heavy losses."

Okay, maybe not so mutually respectful as he'd first thought – Ba'al was rubbing it in.

"I am not the only one," Yu responded quickly. "Did I not hear that your new flagship was destroyed?"

Ba'al's gloating look turned dark. "I lost two thousand Jaffa," he enunciated harshly.

"Such is war," Yu muttered stoically, turning away.

"No," Ba'al interrupted, "this is different. This enemy attacks like a coward." His eyes flashed in anger, his hard stare attempting to pierce the cold façade of the other Goa'uld. "Apparently Bastet and Kali have suffered similar setbacks – they are becoming more frequent while the identity of the antagonist continues to elude us."

A frown built between Daniel's brows. This was no casual summit – the System Lords were meeting for a council of war against an outside aggressor, against a Goa'uld who had hit them all, causing major casualties and upsetting the balance of power in the galaxy. This wasn't a group of powerful warlords considering the slicing and dicing of galactic territories, this was a bunch of cringing victims of a superior force. He fingered the pouch at his side. Was one of these System Lords responsible for the attacks and even now wallowing in the pathetic misery of the others? He wouldn't put it past them. Daniel counted – only six. Ren'Al had promised all seven, but Sobek was still missing. He dropped his hand.

"I am certain you have your suspicions," he heard Yu reply.

"We are all suffering at the hands of this unknown adversary. By shrouding himself he sows discord amongst us." Ba'al narrowed his eyes. "There have been concerns raised that he hides here within our own ranks."

"Interesting."

Daniel kept his face calm, intent, as he listened. He envied Yu's control, a control that Ba'al didn't share – unless he was one hell of an actor.

"I see that Sobek has not yet arrived," Yu changed the subject.

Ba'al cocked his head, intent. "No. But we have received a message supposedly sent by a representative of this new power."

Yu nodded. "An interesting coincidence."

"Indeed," Ba'al replied, a quick smile dying on his lips almost before it appeared. He turned and motioned Yu to join the others.

Uncertain, Daniel remained one step behind his master as he walked among the System Lords who received greetings or glares with the same stolid mask. Daniel felt the appraising stares of the Goa'uld and their slaves as he entered the room and they circulated around him, all the fine hairs on his arms and neck standing up when he felt their presence at his back. He lost the train of the conversation as Morrigan's slave brushed up against his side, and, instinctively turning to assess the threat, he met the fierce, dark eyes of her lo'taur boring into his own. The slave let his gaze scan Daniel's face, slowly, resting for a moment on his mouth before rising again to catch his eye.

"Jarren." The sharp word brought Daniel's head around quickly and he found that Yu had stopped before one of the ornate gold chairs that stood around the open space at the center of the room, his back still to Daniel.

With a relieved sigh, Daniel placed himself at Yu's side, hoping to hide his nervous reaction to the lo'taur's scrutiny, but not before he saw the smirk on Ba'al's observant face. "My lord."

"Prepare my refreshment. I would quench my thirst during this weary talk before Sobek arrives."

"Of course, my lord," Daniel responded with a bow, mind flailing in confusion as he wondered how he could possibly continue this charade if he was expected to know his way around the completely unfamiliar space station.

He heard a warm chuckle and raised his eyes to Ba'al's as Yu gracefully settled into his chair. The bearded System Lord took Daniel by the arm and steered him towards his own lo'taur who waited patiently at the room's entrance. "Do not worry yourself; Morrigan's lo'taur has an unsettling effect on many of the slaves. Allow my servant to show you the way to our galley and help you get your bearings here." Ba'al nodded to the thin young man awaiting him and released Daniel's arm. Daniel couldn't help a glance over his shoulder at Yu who was deep in conversation with Bastet. The same sound of laughter greeted him again and he glanced at the Goa'uld beside him. "Your Master will be quite all right until you return to him," Ba'al's smile was more than a little unsettling itself. "You have my word."

Daniel nodded and obediently fell into step with Ba'al's servant as he was apparently expected to. Concentrating on the route they were taking through the corridors and turns, Daniel again felt himself fighting for emotional control. Alone among the Goa'uld System Lords and their most loyal servants with Jacob hovering somewhere out there in a cloaked tel'tac unable to help him, Daniel managed to choke down – was it a laugh or a sob? He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. Undercover among the System Lords, dressed as a slave, going off to mix a cocktail for Lord Yu. Just another day on SG-1.

**A/N: Thank you for your patience. My broken ankle will probably keep me tied to my laptop for weeks, so I should be able to finish both this story and Best Intentions by then. I look forward to your comments.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks for the comments, and the well-wishes! Feel free to continue… ;)**

Holding My Breath 13

The first time the tunnels shook and rained blocks and dust onto everyone beneath convinced O'Neill that the Goa'uld had arrived. If he and his team had been a few meters to the left, they would be lying dead under the rubble that was all that was left of the tunnel, not the Tok'ra. He shot a quick look at Carter and Teal'c, shaken but unharmed before he pushed Ren'Al, who seemed to have lost the ability to think for herself, towards her injured comrades and grabbed his radio.

"Mansfield, this is O'Neill. Report!"

It took a moment for the leader of SG-17 to respond, and his voice sounded out of breath, weary. "A section of the tunnel collapsed. We have some injured Tok'ra here."

Livid that this "simple off-world orientation" had turned deadly for all of them, O'Neill barked his orders. "Get them out of there!"

"Roger that."

Immediately, another series of shock waves hit the tunnels and dropped Jack to his knees, arms raised to protect his head from the falling debris. He saw Carter stir, dust coating her entire body and toggled the switch on his radio again.

"Major – what's your situation?" He waited, all senses alert. "Mansfield, report!" Nothing. Okay, the major's radio might have taken a hit. He scrambled to his feet, taking in the blocks and crystals that still fell in ones and twos to the tunnel floor, some onto the silent bodies of the dead Tok'ra, some too close to those already injured and those trying to help. Teal'c was flinging the heavy blocks around in the attempt to free a Tok'ra man almost buried but still screaming in pain, while Carter worked with Ren'Al to help another to his feet. This crossroads of two tunnels was obviously not safe - they needed a better supported structure and a rally point to care for the injured while they figured a way out of this. Buried under a pile of rubble inside a Tok'ra tunnel is not the way Jack O'Neill wanted to go out.

"Ren'Al, get your people moving, we've got to get to Mansfield and his men."

Still too stunned to disobey, Ren'Al nodded and handed the injured man off to another. "They were assisting Aldwin in the eastern corridors." She hurried past him to lead the way.

The shaking continued, some tremors barely breaking their stride, others hurling the group against the tunnel wall where they waited, huddled together, until the roof stopped falling. The colonel kept them moving, attempting radio contact with the other team at five minute intervals. Still nothing.

Jack sped forward when he saw the dusty green figures limping towards them – not enough figures, not nearly enough. Elliot and Aldwin supported an unconscious Mansfield between them. Jack looked down the tunnel at their backs for the others, but it was empty.

"Elliot?" God the kid was young. His face pale beneath the dust, the lieutenant kept his lips pressed closely together, probably injured himself, Jack noted. Suddenly another face was superimposed over the young airman's – just as young, but topped with long sandy hair instead of a green forage cap, biting back against his own pain to get a teammate to safety.

"Direct hit, Sir," Elliot stammered.

Carter hurried to take Aldwin's place at Mansfield's side, already assessing the major's injuries.

Jack knew the answer before he asked; he could read it in the kid's face, in the bleakness of his eyes. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"They're dead." Two words, just two simple words but Jack knew the impact saying them aloud would have on the lieutenant.

"Sir," Carter interrupted, one hand on Mansfield's chest, "we've got to get him to the infirmary."

Elliot was about at the end of his strength, mentally and physically. It only took one brief glance from Jack for Teal'c to step forward and place himself next to the injured officer, taking at least this physical weight from the young man's shoulders.

After a short consult with Aldwin, Ren'Al spoke, her initial shock having worn off she seemed willing to take the lead once again. "We'll take them to the lab – follow me!" she rushed back down the tunnel and Carter and Teal'c carried Mansfield along behind.

Jack waited, watching Elliot, knowing that it was neither the time nor the place for grief for the lost lives, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease the airman's pain. The young man locked eyes with the colonel for a moment, as if waiting for something, and then shuffled past, visibly working to choke off his emotions. Bringing up the rear, Jack grimaced as he watched the slight, limping figure ahead of him, the sight bringing him too many memories, before he clamped down hard on his own reaction.

Carter had barely begun working over Mansfield on the floor of the lab when another blast hit. The roof seemed to be holding, but Jack knew they had to get out of the tunnels, and fast. He spun at the sound of Ren'Al's voice as she moved from her quick check on the symbiote still held in stasis in the center of the room to another console.

"I'm transferring the formula for the poison to this crystal, and I'm erasing the memory from this computer." She slid the flat object into her tunic while her other hand worked the controls. "We will die before we give up our secrets," she murmured, clearly not intending for her words to be heard.

"You know," Jack shouted, "we really should come up with a new strategy – one that does not include us dying." All these Tok'ra talked about was dying this and death that and he'd had enough. This continued emphasis on a 'noble death' made them weak in tactics and long on martyrdom – not exactly the right combination for survival.

"We must determine what is happening on the surface, O'Neill," Teal'c advised. _Finally,_ Jack rolled his eyes, _somebody was thinking_.

"With the power down we are cut off from the surface sensors," Aldwin turned, anxious to help. "You'll have to use the secondary ring room."

Okay, that sounds like a way out of these damn tunnels. Jack nodded.

"Show them," ordered Ren'Al.

As Aldwin strode from the room, Jack's pointed glance gathered up Teal'c and let Carter and Elliot know that he expected them to stay there and work on Mansfield. If he and Teal'c found a way out, they'd be back in a hurry and they had to be ready to move. Carter answered with a short nod of understanding, but Elliot merely stared, clutching his weapon to his chest with both hands. There was no time for discussion or encouragement, and Jack hurried after the others, stifling a dark wish that it was Daniel standing there guarding his six.

~---~

The Intrigue of Slaves/ Summit – Daniel contacts Jacob

"My lord Ba'al has instructed me to bring your master's provisions to this area of the galley," the lo'taur explained as he led Daniel to one of the many small counter spaces within the large room. "My own station is here, directly across from yours, as befits the ranks of the two most powerful System Lords."

Daniel tried a noncommittal nod and moved to open a familiar looking chest imprinted with Yu's seal that awaited him beneath the counter. Rank seemed to be just as important to the slaves as it was to their masters – not uncommon in a culture such as the one the Goa'uld created for themselves. According to the Tok'ra, Yu was the oldest System Lord, and had been second in stature only to Ra himself, but had never had the ambition to reach out to claim the territories or position as Supreme System Lord that Ra had left empty upon his death. For some reason, this was not taken as a sign of weakness by the others, but as a sign of restraint. Keeping his back to the other slave, Daniel placed each item from the crate carefully on the counter and then stood and opened the unfamiliar packages as if inspecting them for damage during travel.

He placed the simple metal pitcher and unadorned cup to one side with a sigh of relief, and then continued his search for anything the System Lord might have had in mind when he requested a drink. The third package – a tall, thin canister - revealed a dark powder, and Daniel surreptitiously stuck one finger into the opening and placed a small amount on his tongue. A strong, dark taste with a hint of spicy sweetness filled his mouth as soon as the powder met the moisture there. His eyes darted along the smooth counter until they reached an upright tubular column that curved at the top. A faucet? He moved the pitcher to stand beneath the curved lip and ran his fingers gently over the surface from the base of the column upwards until he felt the two slight bumps. Cold and hot? He touched the topmost bump and a perfectly round stream of water glided silently from the faucet into the pitcher. Keeping his finger on the control, he moved the other hand to intercept the stream and then brought his cupped hand to his mouth. Cold water.

A low murmur to his left brought Daniel's head around sharply. Ba'al's lo'taur still stood quietly, his hips leaning against the counter to Daniel's back, his dark eyes following Daniel's movements. But the sound hadn't come from him. Daniel's eyes narrowed at the unwanted presence of Morrigan's leather-clad slave at the end of Yu's designated space. The smiling, broad-shouldered human had his arms crossed over his chest and his bright green eyes barely hid a predatory gleam as he stared at Daniel's face. Daniel turned back to his task, moving his finger from the control knob as the water approached the rim and shaking out his left hand to scatter the remaining drops of water onto the floor.

"Afraid we'd try to poison your master?" The lo'taur's voice was deep and rich, trying unsuccessfully to mask a hint of amusement. It grated along Daniel's nerves and he turned back to glare at the man. If Yu was the oldest System Lord, then Jarren, as Yu's slave, should have a similar position among the other Goa'uld's servants, and he'd be damned if he'd let a minor player like Morrigan get to him. He squared his shoulders and lifted an eyebrow, practicing the look that Teal'c reserved for mouthy new recruits and silver-haired senators. The sudden uneasiness on the slave's face told him he'd come close to a perfect imitation.

"My lord Ba'al would never allow such a thing," the quiet slave to Daniel's left stated, hands clasped before him.

Daniel kept his gaze on the perceived threat. "It wouldn't be the first time a minor Goa'uld attempted to secure his – or her – position through the actions of his lo'taur." He seasoned the message with as much spite as it would hold.

"Minor!" Morrigan's slave took an involuntary step in Daniel's direction, his face having lost all of its intentional desire and settled into an angry mask. Daniel didn't flinch, having seen this kind of behavior from more threatening creatures twice a week for the past five years. He noticed that Ba'al's lo'taur maintained his position, just watching the confrontation play out in front of him. Of course, he was his master's servant, after all, and Ba'al was a master at manipulation. So this little tour of the space station was a set up. Great.

Daniel turned back to his work, figuring that ignoring Morrigan's slave's behavior was a better reaction than instigating a brawl. His "master" had requested something from his slave, and a good slave wouldn't let anything distract him from his duties. He reached for the canister of powdered tea – or something close enough to it to make no difference – and poured a handful or so into the pitcher of water, watching as it dissolved instantly. He could feel the fury radiate from the body of the lo'taur at his side and realized that this confrontation wasn't over. A small cup lay among Yu's supplies and he poured a few drops into it to check the taste, raising his eyes back to Morrigan's slave's over the cups's rim, watching as the lo'taur took himself in hand.

The slave's anger had dissolved into grudging approval and the smile reappeared. "You are wiser than Master Yu's last lo'taur," he observed quietly, taking one more step into Daniel's personal space, "and much prettier as well." He took a deep breath that expanded his broad chest and Daniel nearly choked with the laughter that the obvious posturing provoked. Smiling, he shook his head and set the cup on the counter.

"I'm sorry, but I also have better taste," he replied curtly, making sure his absolute refusal of what the slave was offering came through loud and clear. Alone among the Goa'uld, Daniel didn't want to have to worry about avoiding advances from this guy until Sobek arrived and the Tok'ra's plan could be put into effect. The slave turned on his heel and stalked away, and Daniel didn't envy him his task of informing Morrigan that they'd need to come up with a new plan of attack. He eyed the pitcher. The flavor of the drink was palatable – neither too strong nor too weak – and Daniel shrugged a mental shoulder as he remembered that Yu's tea back on his homeworld had been a medium brown, without the harsh aroma of the stronger teas he'd tasted in India and Egypt. It was a guess, but then, everything he did at this point was based on guesswork. And as much as Daniel hated guesswork, hated _not knowing_, not having enough time to research and investigate thoroughly, it was something he had to get used to for his work with the military who had a strict shoot first and ask questions…never…philosophy.

"When is Lord Sobek scheduled to arrive?" he ventured, back still turned to Ba'al's watching lo'taur.

"Within the hour," the young man answered. "But I believe my lord is also waiting for an eighth delegate to the summit."

Daniel turned, meeting the slave's dark gaze with a questioning glance. "My master was not informed of this change in plan," he stated, a slight warning in his voice. More waiting. If there was another System Lord out there he'd have to delay releasing the poison until he arrived. This 'delegate' as the lo'taur called him, must be representing the enemy Ba'al had been talking about, leaving him the last Goa'uld standing if Daniel eliminated all of the others. Eliminated. That was one of those words Jack used. Terminate. Eliminate. Remove the threat. Made it sound so – clinical. He had to get word to Jacob.

The slave bent his head in acknowledgement, brow furrowing at the flash of emotions crossing Daniel's face. "My lord Ba'al is surely discussing the matter with your master now. If you are finished with his refreshment, I will accompany you back to the council chamber."

_As finished as I'll ever be_, Daniel thought to himself, hefting the pitcher and cup and nodding for the slave to precede him.

Within the summit room, Yu motioned him away, to lay the cup and pitcher on a table that stood behind his chair. Each of the System Lords seemed to be sending his lo'taur away, some with genial nods or gestures of affection, some with brusque words or even blows in the case of Olokun and his slave. He watched Morrigan's slave, on his knees before his mistress, head bowed. She had risen from her seat and had one hand on the back of his neck, stroking his hair. But her small, hard eyes were staring at Daniel. Yu motioned him closer.

"My lord?" Daniel leaned forward.

"I see that I must again teach some here that I am not so easily thwarted as they might believe." He nodded towards Morrigan who bent her head in a small gesture of respect. "You serve me well, Jarren, but that one still has you in her sights. Return to the tel'tac until I send for you." He placed two fingers under Daniel's chin and pressed upwards until their eyes met. "I shall reward you for your cleverness later."

Daniel kept his face passive and an appropriate reply leapt to his lips from somewhere deep in his subconscious. "It is my honor to serve, my lord."

He moved quickly through the corridors, and managed to arrive at the hallway leading to the docking stations alone. Glancing back over his shoulder he fumbled in his pouch for the Tok'ra communicator, but the sound of hurried footsteps stopped him and he leaned back into a small alcove, bowing his head. Sobek and his lo'taur didn't even glance his way as they moved purposefully towards the council chamber. Great. If the players were all in place, Yu would be summoning him back before he even made it to the tel'tac. He grabbed for the communicator and activated it.

"Jacob. Jacob, are you there? It's Daniel." Where the hell was he? Wasn't he supposed to be waiting for his signal?

"Daniel? How's it going?"

He leaned unsteadily against the wall behind him, his relief at hearing one friendly voice nearly overwhelming. "Oh, swell," he said lightly, "it's kinda like Goa'uld Mardi Gras here."

"A ship just docked so, by my count, you've got all seven. It's time to release the poison."

Leave it to Jacob to get right to the point. "Yeah, we might want to hold off a while, apparently they're expecting someone else." Daniel knew his words were coming out too fast, broadcasting his anxiety, but he had to get to the tel'tac and await Yu's summons.

"Who?"

Jacob didn't sound too convinced. _Gee, having to convince someone that he might have the right idea, that'll be different,_ Daniel thought. "I don't know, it seems as though they've got some mysterious new adversary that's been causing some pretty serious headaches."

A moment passed. "That's strange. It's not like the Goa'uld to play it so coy."

Huh. Jacob seemed to be listening. "I'll see what I can find out and I'll contact you later," Daniel added before shutting off the transmitter and stowing it back in his pouch. Hard for the guy to exactly argue with me when I'm in control of the radio, Daniel smiled. Maybe he ought to try that method with Jack when … if he had the chance.


	14. Chapter 14

Holding My Breath 14

Summit – From Bad to Worse in the Tok'ra Tunnels – Extended Scene

Sam ran shaking hands over Mansfield's body again, hoping it was the adrenaline that put the tremors there, and not the overwhelming sense that the major was too far gone for her simple field medicine. Probably internal bleeding, the blood that ran from his nose and ears told her the concussion was a bad one, and his left leg was fractured below the knee. Her eyes snapped to his face as he struggled to wake, his head flopping back and forth on the hard floor and his mouth grimacing - the groan that welled up from deep within him was broken by little gasps of pain.

"Major… Major Mansfield," she said quietly, bending down to bring her head close to his. "Don't try to move, can you tell me where the pain is?"

Mansfield coughed, spewing a bloody haze into the air, his left arm clutching at his chest convulsively, and he blinked heavy eyes, trying to make sense of what he saw. "Maj… Carter?"

"Yes, sir." Sam placed one hand on top of his, pressing gently to reinforce her presence at his side. "Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c have headed up to the surface to scout an escape route, but we've got to be ready to move when the order comes."

The major nodded grimly, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head and the nauseated clench of his gut. His left leg was on fire and something was wrong in his chest, he could feel it with every snatched breath. "My… my men? SG-17?" He felt Carter squeeze his hand and his eyes flew open to search for her pale face in the darkness. "Major?"

"Lt. Elliot is here with me. He's a bit shaken up, but unharmed." Sam hesitated. The news wasn't going to do the major any good in his current state – in any state, actually – but he had the right to know. "I'm afraid the others didn't make it." She watched as the Air Force veteran tightened his lips until they were white, the pain of his wounds and his losses etched clearly on his face for an instant before the soldier's mask slipped back over his features.

"Morphine."

"Major," Sam explained gently, "you've got a head injury and you're already having difficulty breathing…"

"Carter," Mansfield ground out between his teeth, "if I have a hope of moving when the word comes, I'm gonna need that morphine."

She shook her head, knowing he was right. "Let me splint your leg and then we'll see, sir."

Mansfield managed a grunted laugh. "Huh. From what I hear from O'Neill, I'm gonna need it _before_ you try to splint my leg."

A smile splashed across Sam's face at the memory of the colonel's description of her medic skills after their rescue from the ice cave in Antarctica. "Laugh it up, major," she responded as she dug through the medical supplies in her pack, pulling out the pre-filled syringes and a splint, "I'll make sure to let Dr. Frasier know you need the really big needles when we get home." Glancing up at the major's face she saw that his brief return to consciousness was over. One hand reached up to feel for the pulse in his neck – fast, too fast – and she was relieved to find that her hands had stopped shaking.

The roof, however, hadn't. She plunged the syringe into his leg as the next series of blasts tore more debris from the ceiling above them. Mansfield couldn't survive another hit. She turned to Ren'Al who was now fiddling with the computer controls that operated the symbiote's stasis chamber.

"We've got to get him out of here," she insisted, pulling herself up to stand next to the Tok'ra. "This man needs medical attention."

Ren'Al did not look up to meet her eyes. "We've done what we can right now."

'_Done what they can?'_ The Tok'ra had yet to do anything that didn't serve their own purposes. Sam's eyes were drawn to Lantash where he hung, suspended, fragile, still healing after all this time. He and Martouf had seemed so different from the other Tok'ra – so compassionate, so _human_ – and truly concerned about their Earth allies. Or maybe that concern was reserved for her and the people closest to her, maybe it was just because of Jolinar and, at heart, he was just as cold and calculating as every other Tok'ra she had ever met. The changes in her father had been mostly for the good, but now there was a sense of superiority that Jacob Carter had never had, even in his status as an Air Force general.

Her mind was reeling, trying to come up with a way to save Mansfield, the Tok'ra, all of them, when she realized just what she was staring at.

"What about the symbiote?" Sam exclaimed, wondering why she hadn't thought of it before.

"Out of the question," Ren'Al snapped.

"It could save Major Mansfield's life," Carter barked right back, her fiery stare completely unheeded by the Tok'ra.

Ren'Al did not look up. "The symbiote's life is being sustained by the chamber; it is in no condition to help your friend." Her fingers stabbed at the controls.

Another gurgling cough from the unconscious man sent Sam back to his side. His pulse was weakening. "We can't just let him die!" She glanced back to see the effect of her words on Elliot's face and bit her lip. She couldn't let the young airman lose his entire unit, and she wouldn't, even if she had to physically wrestle Lantash away from the woman. If Lantash remained in the stasis chamber, he'd have no chance of escaping the Goa'uld attack, and if Mansfield didn't get some real medical attention soon he wouldn't live long enough to do so. She knew Lantash – he wouldn't stay within an unwilling host any longer than purely necessary.

"If we implant the symbiote it would kill them both," Ren'Al insisted.

Sam turned and opened her mouth to reply when another blast seemed to hit directly over their heads and Ren'Al disappeared under a load of rubble. Elliot, hovering between his commanding officer and the Tok'ra, stood stunned and Sam's eyes widened in shock as a huge block of stone crashed from the ceiling to hurl itself against Elliot's head. The man dropped, senseless, and Sam threw herself over Mansfield to wait out the tremors, her back trembling as if expecting to feel the blunt impacts of the falling stones. Glass shattered, metal screamed, and, from far off she heard the sounds of Tok'ra shouting out warnings and instructions over the thudding of fallen masonry.

~---~

Summit – From Bad to Worse on the Surface of Revanna

The three waited in the tree line until the bombers passed over, leaving a trail of fiery destruction in their wake. The smoke reduced visibility, but O'Neill led them at a run across the wasteland that had once been a fertile plateau towards a mound of dirt and rocks that had been thrown up by the continued bombardment. He scrambled up the slope and threw himself down hoping the green fatigues hid him and Teal'c against the mud as well as Aldwin's Tok'ra uniform. He felt the impact of Teal'c's body beside him, and, using his elbows, Jack inched upwards until his eyes rose above the unnatural ridgeline.

_Okay, this is bad_, he commented to himself as he counted five al'kesh and one tel'tac on the ground surrounding the Stargate. Ground troops were already moving in formations, heading out to locate and subdue their prey. "They seem to be amassing a few troops," he observed dryly. A few. This wasn't going to be a little skirmish that the Tok'ra could run away from – this was an all-out, take-no-prisoners war, maybe a combined attack by all of the System Lords. Jack felt the skin around his eyes tightening. The intel that Jacob received about the summit meeting – maybe it was fed to him as part of an elaborate plan to focus the Tok'ra's attention away from their own vulnerability here on Revanna so that the Goa'uld could wipe them out with one blow. And, if so, that meant Jacob and Daniel were walking into a trap.

Not that Jack could do much to help – SG-1 had been snared just as easily as the Tok'ra, pinned down in collapsing tunnels under the weight of an entire Jaffa battalion. His mind leapt to plan after plan, weighing the odds of trying to take over one of the enemy bombers against those of running a guerilla strategy of hide and seek with the marauding Jaffa and coming up with nothing.

"Once the aerial bombardment exposes the tunnels, they will infiltrate and search them," Teal'c advised, his eyes never leaving the enemy position.

Jack glanced over at Aldwin who had taken one look at the massive Goa'uld strength and fallen to his back to stare sightlessly at the smoke-filled sky. The hopelessness that filled the Tok'ra's face only served to tighten down Jack's resolve. He grabbed his radio. "Carter, come in." Nothing. "Carter, respond." If the Jaffa had already blasted open an entrance to the tunnels… Jack pushed quickly to his feet. "Let's get back."

~---~

Summit – From Bad to Worse at the Space Station – Extended Scene

Daniel stood silently behind Yu's chair holding the metal pitcher before him like a shield. He had been right – the summons to join Yu back in the council chamber had been waiting for him when he returned to the tel'tac – it turned out that Sobek had been impatient to begin the proceedings. He had watched carefully as each lo'taur stayed close to his or her master, some standing quietly, some kneeling, others walking to one side of the Goa'uld, leaning in now and then to share a whispered conversation. The System Lords reminded him of Earth politicians, each one insistent on his time in the spotlight, and quite able to talk Daniel into a daze that no amount of Tok'ra stimulants could punch through. In this context, the slaves could easily be interns, assistants, the kinds of toadying hangers-on that someone like Kinsey would surround himself with. Watching Morrigan intimately stroking the head of her kneeling lo'taur Daniel's stomach clenched – okay, maybe his analogy needed some work. Even the most brown-nosing political aide probably didn't have to worry about pleasing his master in bed, or getting whipped – or worse - if he stepped out of line.

Frowning, Daniel tried to concentrate on the posturing System Lords as they each recited a long list of grievances against this new enemy that had appeared out of nowhere. It was clear from the rhetoric that they were all smarting from the force of the enemy's attacks, that they had all lost territories, ships, and personnel. The reason for this 'summit' was clear – for perhaps the first time in centuries the System Lords needed each other – and it was infuriating them. Their eyes blazed, they slashed each other with insults and thinly veiled threats, some turned their annoyance on the waiting lo'taurs, lashing out physically and verbally at the only people who would not – who could not _ever_ strike back. Daniel tried to keep the contempt from his face. These were the mightiest Goa'uld, the plague of the galaxy, the ones the SGC and its allies had been afraid of for years, and all they could manage to do was vent their insulted pride on those weaker than themselves.

God, if the last minute surprise guest would just show up he'd gladly release the Tok'ra poison and take out the entire mewling, whining bunch of them. Standing there rigidly, wondering where the next nasty surprise was coming from, being forced to listen to them, watch them floundering for position while feeding their own egos by abusing their slaves, Daniel didn't know how much more he could take. Jacob had made this sound like an in-and-out mission; simple, direct, step into the council room, count to seven and release the poison. He didn't think the Tok'ra had intended Daniel to try to pull off a long-term masquerade as Yu's most trusted, most intimate slave – Jacob at least must have realized that it would be impossible for him to maintain this façade indefinitely. He knew how much Daniel hated them. Every single one of them. Probably was counting on that to insure that Daniel would actual pull the proverbial trigger.

Suddenly he realized that he'd never asked Jacob just what the poison would do, or how long it would take to kill the symbiotes. Poison was messy; it didn't offer a quick, clean death like two shots with a zat, or a bullet to the brain. He looked across the room at Sobek and Morrigan and imagined them writhing on the floor, moaning in agony, mouths opened wide as they choked to death, eyes flashing with the inner fire of the Goa'uld one last time. He remembered how Apophis had screamed at his death, lying in the SGC infirmary strapped to the bed, and how he'd rejoiced to see the one who had tortured his Sha're for so long breathing what he thought was his last breath. Daniel kept his lips tight and managed to swallow a gasp as the memory assaulted him. The host. When the symbiote Apophis had died, the host had been able to hold on, to regain awareness and speak on his own.

His gaze jerked from arrogant face to arrogant face as the Goa'uld moved across the room, gesturing, posing. The images of System Lords in their death throes were suddenly supplanted by seven pairs of innocent eyes looking up at him for help, for compassion, for a way to comprehend the ages of slavery in which they'd been forced to live within their own bodies and realizing in the instant of their deaths that he was the one responsible. Daniel closed his eyes and shuddered. No. Not that. He couldn't think about that. He blinked his eyes open and lowered his head, refusing to look up into their faces again, knowing he'd be able to see beyond the haughty masks to the humanity struggling beneath. He took a slow, deep breath. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

Yu moved. The System Lord had remained seated, silently watching the others as they strode about and shouted, railing against their common foe. Finally, he raised one hand and Daniel was surprised that the other Goa'uld reacted immediately, each one stifling his or her tirade before wandering to their chairs and motioning for their lo'taurs to take their places a step behind. The mood in the council chamber changed as the System Lords took their seats, and Daniel wondered if Yu had intentionally allowed the others this time to release their aggression so that they could finally focus on their collective problem. All attention was suddenly concentrated on the oldest System Lord – some gazes openly curious, others hooded and suspicious – and Daniel felt more exposed than ever before, carefully keeping his head bent to hide the thoughts and emotions that raced through him. Focus on Yu meant more scrutiny for him.

"This has gone on long enough," Yu stated, eyes searching his allies' faces as he stood and paced slowly around the open space beneath the domed ceiling. Daniel ground his teeth together – he couldn't agree more with his 'Master.' "We must determine who is responsible for these attacks."

"The coward refuses to show himself," Ba'al replied, his voice also quiet and deliberate, watching as Yu mounted the steps to his chair and again took his seat. "He only strikes with his ships, never with ground troops."

Yu's pointed response revealed his own intolerance of the situation. "Have none of you seen the faces of the enemy Jaffa?"

Daniel raised his head as the silence grew. Eyes shifted nervously as the Goa'uld seemed to weigh the wisdom of an honest response to Yu's question. Morrigan slid her eyes to rest on Olokun, to her left, and Daniel noticed that the dark gaze of her leather-clad lo'taur was again focused on him. Great. He didn't dare drop his eyes having already established himself as higher up the slave food-chain that Morrigan's pet, so he stared back defiantly, hoping he was coming off as vastly superior rather than out of his depth, or even worse, interested.

It was Kali who broke the silence. "I have," she muttered. "When my outpost at Cerador came under assault, my First Prime managed to disable and board one of the enemy ships."

"Did you take any prisoners?" Yu demanded.

"They fought to the death," Kali replied, disgusted. "Most had been in the service of Chronos and Sokar," she deliberately shifted her eyes to peer across the chamber, "but one bore the mark of Olokun."

Daniel felt the rising tension as if it were a physical presence as the Goa'uld and their slaves turned as one to the dark-skinned System Lord. He frowned. The information about Olokun had been sketchy at best.

"How do you explain this," Yu demanded quietly, menacingly.

Olokun shifted nervously, looking around, perhaps hoping to find an ally among those awaiting his answer. He grimaced. "One of my motherships was surrounded by the enemy," he reluctantly admitted. "Instead of dying with honor the cowards surrendered and were taken. They may well have switched their allegiance."

"And you expect us to believe this?" Ba'al seemed to be speaking for all of them as Daniel saw the scorn and mistrust clearly on the System Lords' faces.

"I, too, have suffered at the hands of this unseen foe," Olokun spit back. "How dare you accuse me!"

Ba'al waited stoically, as if expecting the counterattack. Olokun's outburst seemed to release the System Lords from their deadly focus and many turned back to watch Yu as if his response was the only one that truly mattered here.

"My lords." A simple, human voice sounded so out of place among the resonant tones of the Goa'uld that Daniel's gaze snapped immediately to Ba'al's lo'taur. The man had taken up his station between his Master and the door to the council chamber, and, his head lowered and his hands clasped before him in a now familiar gesture, he waited until he'd gathered the attention of the System Lords. "The final guest has arrived," he intoned formally.

_Now? Was it time?_ Daniel fumbled at his belt pouch with his left hand, feeling for the smooth surface of the Tok'ra device. He'd just closed his fingers around it, his hand hovering at his waist when the large door slid open to reveal a tall, thin figure, the lights from the hallway glittering along its gauzy covering and picking out gold curls atop its head. Daniel stopped breathing, unable to control the slight widening of his eyes as he watched her approach, hands on her hips. No. Not her.

"I hope I haven't missed all the fun," the snide voice echoed through the council chamber. Daniel could still hear _her_ voice in there, overlaid as it was with the resonance of the Goa'uld that had taken her prisoner. He remembered her voice, her face, in other places - sometimes warm with compassion, others poised with self-confidence. But never, _never _asmaliciously cold and calculating as it was now as she stood unafraid before the collective might of the Goa'uld System Lords. Sarah. The weapon that would kill her was in his hand, his finger not a half-inch from the trigger. A flat, unemotional voice somewhere within him urged him to be quick, to push the button before she turned and recognized him and the mission was lost. He knew that voice, he knew that what it said was right, it was what he'd come here to do, his duty. And he turned away, stepping into the darkness behind Yu's throne.

'_Not incapable, exactly.'_ Jack was right. He'd been right all along.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Slight warning – this chapter is rather dark. Bear with me.**

Holding My Breath 15

Summit – Daniel's Dilemma – Extended Scene

He didn't know how long he stood there behind Yu's chair, his fingers moving over the Tok'ra device again and again, coming to rest for a second on the activation button and then fumbling away. Hurry up, his mind was shouting at him, once she recognizes you she'll sound the alarm and you'll be caught, unmasked as an unwelcome guest at the System Lords' most secret meeting. Everything that he'd been through during the past five years, every brain searing assault from a hand device, every staff weapon wound, every stab or hit or pain stick burn at the hands of the Goa'uld would be only fond memories if he they found him out, recognized him as a member of SG-1. Ra, Apophis, even Hathor would not hold a candle to the rage and vindictiveness of a united group of pissed off System Lords. Especially Yu. He imagined that the revelation of his little deception at Yu's expense would wipe that mask of aloofness right off the Goa'uld's face. Every second he delayed Daniel brought his own death and the mission's failure that much closer to certainty. Through the desperate clamoring of his inner voices Daniel tried to see the solution, the choice that would let him walk out of here with his mission, his skin, and his soul intact.

_Stop it! Nothing has changed – nothing._ He was in no more danger now than the moment he'd stepped into Yu's fortress with Jacob. He'd known the risks; he'd known that the chemical in the ring might not work on Yu, that he might give himself away among the other lo'taur, that there may be some kind of vetting that the Tok'ra hadn't counted on. There had been many opportunities to fail already, and the fact that he was still alive had nothing to do with him or his decisions and everything to do with simple blind luck. He wasn't risking any more by waiting, by looking for another way, another solution. This entire mission was about risk, taking huge risks with his own life and with the Tok'ra's poison for the biggest possible result. If he failed now because… Daniel frowned, intent on keeping his emotions at bay. It wouldn't really matter why he failed, would it? No one would know. Jacob would lose contact and go back to Revanna and SG-1 empty handed, with a shrug and an apology – 'Sorry, guys, I guess something went wrong. Looks like we'll have to come up with a new plan.' And Jack would smirk and shake his head, 'Yeah, figured as much.' No. No one would know. No one but him.

"Jarren." The resonant voice of the Goa'uld cut through Daniel's tumbling thoughts. Move. He had to move. Either back into his role as faithful slave while his mind worked on an answer or into his new one as SGC assassin. What would Jack do? Daniel carefully slid the device back into its pouch. Sorry, but Jack wasn't here. Even without a thorough knowledge of Goa'uld, Jack O'Neill could not have masqueraded as a slave for five minutes - the game would be up at his first sarcastic remark or blatant eye-roll. Daniel straightened and walked calmly to Yu's side, quickly pouring his master a drink from the metal pitcher he still clutched in his hand. This was Daniel's mission, and it was time to take ownership. He cleared his mind, told all the familiar inner voices to shut up, and raised his eyes.

The tiniest of smiles gave her away. Sarah had been a good poker player against everyone but Daniel; he knew her too well. Sarah – Osiris – recognized him immediately. And even in the face of failure, Daniel knew he'd made the right decision. The day he turned his back on humanity, on the uncounted number of wives, lovers, sons, and daughters taken hostage by the Goa'uld and held in captivity for hundreds or thousands of years in their own bodies was the day he'd hang up his SG-1 patch and go back to Egypt. Because if that happened, if he turned into that guy, he'd no longer be Daniel Jackson, and any other military tight-ass who would never think to question an order or a mission or a command decision could replace him. If they'd wanted a cold-hearted, conscienceless executioner they should have damned well hired one.

Daniel felt his eyebrows twitch, but struggled to keep a blank expression on his face when Osiris completely ignored his presence at Yu's side and nonchalantly turned to the System Lords, blithely going on about having much to offer the gathered Goa'uld. Time. That's all he needed - a little time to figure out how he could protect Sarah from the symbiote poison. Looks like his luck hadn't run out just yet.

He'd acquired a little more breathing space when he and Ba'al's lo'taur had been ordered out of the room to bring another chair for the unexpected guest, and he carefully kept his eyes lowered as the two silently wrestled it into position within the circle. Osiris gracefully took her seat, and Daniel felt her hot gaze on the back of his neck, felt the way she brushed her body purposefully against his, felt her unspoken demand that he look up and meet her eyes, but he stubbornly refused. The scrape of Sarah's nails across his arm raised bright red welts and goose bumps that refused to recede as he took his place behind Yu again, his Master's cold stare following his movements and lingering on the three obvious scratches that now decorated his skin. Great. Osiris' presence seemed to have unbalanced the oldest System Lord, and her noticeable interest in his lo'taur earned Daniel a tight-lipped malicious glare. Yu had been absolutely clear when they arrived that Daniel – Jarren – was to do nothing to compromise himself with the other Goa'uld, and although his attitude had seemed more protective than otherwise concerning Morrigan's scheming, Daniel had the definite impression that he was about to be taken to the proverbial woodshed.

"It is time," Yu intoned sharply, turning back to the assembled Goa'uld and touching his fingertips together. Daniel watched, confused, as all of the System Lords adopted a similar pose, heads slightly bowed, hands folded in some manner, but eyes strangely bright, glittering with expectation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ba'al's lo'taur move first, walking to stand within the circle of seated Goa'uld. The other slaves followed, and Daniel quickly emulated them, standing shoulder to shoulder with the others, each one facing his or her Master, head bowed in humility.

"Re nek." The command came from each System Lord at the same time, and Daniel's heart raced. 'Come and worship,' his mind instantly translated. His heart pounded against his chest as his thoughts skittered away from anything that might be defined as worship of the Goa'uld. He unconsciously followed the example of the lo'taurs at his sides and back, stepping to place himself at his 'god's' feet, and then sinking to his knees in deep obeisance. Daniel lowered his head until his forehead was pressed into the cold metal decking, eyes flicking to one side and then the other to confirm that Ba'al's and Bastet's slaves remained locked in similar poses.

The rustling of rich fabrics told him that the Goa'uld were moving now. Ba'al's dark robes swirled between Daniel and the System Lord's slave to his left, blocking his view of what exactly the Goa'uld was doing as he leaned over the young man. He squeezed his eyes shut as he sensed Yu's presence close beside him, standing over him, his shins suddenly pressed up against Daniel's ribs. Short, thick fingers settled gently on his head before clenching tightly, painfully, in his short hair, surprising a gasp from his mouth as Yu bent him cruelly backwards. Daniel blinked hard against tears as his Master's stern, forbidding face loomed over him, the Goa'uld's other hand moving to close firmly over his exposed throat, choking off any sound.

"You try me, Jarren," Yu sputtered between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing gold. "Morrigan's hunger for power over me I will accept, but this desire I see in others' eyes," he jerked Daniel further, overbalancing him until he sprawled at the System Lord's feet, his back and chest burning, "must have its source in you."

Daniel tried to shake his head but he couldn't move, effectively paralyzed by his awkward position and Yu's clenched hands. Trying to talk was useless, to deny Yu's jealous accusations he'd need to breathe first, but he forced his lips to form the words over and over again. "No. No, my lord. Never."

The fist around his throat was abruptly removed and Daniel gulped shuddering breaths down through his bruised trachea, the claustrophobic feeling of panic only clenching tighter as Yu's grip on his hair pulled him upright onto his knees. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Yu's other hand fumbling within his robes. "You will learn your place, slave," Yu sneered, lust and conquest fighting for dominance in his eyes.

_Oh god. No. He can't be_… Other sounds finally began to register from within the council chamber; moans, grunts, flesh striking against flesh with that particular sound that left nothing ambiguous about what was occurring around him. Worship. Of course. Worship could only mean subjugation, a brutal, personal reminder of the slave's complete and utter powerlessness at the hands of his Master. In that split second between thought and action, Daniel's mind returned to the sight of the naked child-slaves on Ra's ship who were willing to lay down their lives to protect their god, without thought, without hesitation, believing that this was their greatest honor: to serve their god with their bodies. Accepting even rape, even death.

Daniel felt his hand groping towards the pouch at his side and the Tok'ra poison within it. Sure, a thought smirked its way through his stuttering brain, you'd kill them all to save yourself from this… this _humiliation,_ god, it wasn't even _life threatening_, but not to save the rest of the galaxy from their dominion. You'd kill them all to avoid this assault. Even Sarah. Where is your precious conscience now, Dr. Jackson?

"I so hate to interrupt one's worship of his god," a smug, satisfied voice from behind him startled Yu to stillness. Eyes still hot with an insatiable hunger, Yu snarled and raised his head.

"Speak," he barked.

Ba'al moved within Daniel's peripheral vision, but Yu's grip on his hair held his slave firmly in place. "There will be time to remind these humans of their positions later." Ba'al's dark eyes swept over the room with a look of condescension. "Let these consume themselves with their appetites," he sneered, "I would discuss greater matters before the full council meets together."

Yu's eyes narrowed, studying Ba'al's face. Grudgingly, he released his hold and Daniel sat back hard on his heels. Rearranging his robes unashamedly, Yu inclined his head to the other System Lord before turning his attention back to his slave. "Return to my quarters," he stated calmly, all traces of the vicious, punishing slave-master concealed beneath his mask of control. But Daniel had seen the real Yu now, the kind of evil that lay behind every façade in this room, evil that lived to dominate and enslave not in some abstract sense, but in a very real and personal craving for ultimate power.

Daniel bowed his head, relief and disgust sapping any remaining strength. "Yes, my lord," he managed to cough, the words burning across his abused throat.

"See that you remain there – alone – until the council begins," Yu continued. As Daniel struggled to his feet, both hands shot out and gripped him at the waist, pulling him tightly against the Goa'uld's body. "Dishonor me within my own chambers," the System Lord hissed, not two inches from Daniel's face, "and I shall take great pleasure in your death."

The dark eyes betrayed no anger, no threat, just a studied blankness that froze Daniel's blood. "My lord, to serve you is my life," he stammered.

Yu released him. "Precisely."

Summit – No Escape from Revanna

Jack reveled in the familiar twinges in his knees as the three raced across the open ground. Goa'uld gliders skirted the surface of Revanna, dropping liquid fire and death from the sky that chased them towards the tree line. Yeah. Nothing new here. Goa'uld trying to kill his team was almost nostalgic after all the political crap-dodging he'd been doing over the past few months. He saw Aldwyn fumbling with a small device and turned, not slowing.

"What's that?"

"A warning," the Tok'ra panted, "the Jaffa have breached the tunnels."

"O'Neill!"

Teal'c's yell almost coincided with a new burst of fire behind them as the Goa'uld ships made another pass. They stumbled as the ground rocked beneath their boots and Jack automatically reached out, putting one hand on the back of the slight figure next to him, steadying his balance. _C'mon, move it, Dan_– he jerked his thoughts out of a too familiar rut as the Tok'ra slipped ahead and another blast hit the ground. _Dammit._

Just a few more yards and they'd be under cover. Jack pushed on, breathing hard, his focus narrowed to the next step, and then the next one, working to concentrate on the present, here and now, survive just one more minute. Straying thoughts could kill as easily as straying bullets. He didn't hear the explosion that sent him flying, just saw the ground come up to meet him, barely organizing his body in time to roll with the force of the blast. Sound and light came crashing back to him in a rush that made his head spin and he barely registered Teal'c's worried presence before motioning the Jaffa on to check on Aldwyn.

He struggled to his knees, wincing at the searing pressure there. Jack pressed his fingers against his eyes, blinking to try to clear them of the dirt that the death gliders threw up with every shot. Through the tears he watched as the dark skinned Jaffa knelt over the body of the Tok'ra, recognizing the truth in the unnatural angle of the neck below the sandy-colored hair. He screwed his eyes shut at the image of another face lying there on the grass, same light brown hair, same build, same eerie stillness, and he felt as if a staff blast had taken him full in the chest.

The Jaffa gently moved the Tok'ra to his back. "He's dead, O'Neill."

Jack swallowed bile and pushed to his feet. A droning sound grew behind him and he turned to watch the full complement of death gliders honing in on their position. He grabbed at Teal'c's TAC vest and the two teammates pulled and shoved one another towards the thin covering that hid the entrance to the Tok'ra's tunnels.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter has been edited - but only the Daniel scene entitled "No Safety" has been changed. I've been working on the sequel, "Letting Go" and this way of looking at the beginning of the Daniel/Osiris confrontation just works better with the rest of the story. Thanks!**

Holding My Breath Chapter 16

Summit – The Symbiote Survives – Extended Scene

The first thing she noticed was the cold. The cold of the metal floor that seeped through the tough fabric of her pants, the cold air that brushed across her face and hands carrying smells of scorched flesh and the gritty feel of pulverized metal and rock, but, more importantly, the feel of cooling skin where her cheek lay against Major Mansfield's forehead. Sam opened her eyes and levered her torso up, away from where she'd thrown herself across the injured man's upper body, trying to save him from the impact of the collapsing Tok'ra tunnel. She felt the sting of new cuts on her cheek as she turned her head to take in the utter destruction of the lab. It was hard to breathe, hard to think.

Against her will her gaze slowly slid the length of Mansfield's body and she saw the heavy beam that had fallen across the major's legs and pelvis, crushing bone. She felt the burning in her lungs, blaming it on the amount of airborne grit and smoke she'd inhaled while she laid there unconscious, not on the lifeless face and silenced pulse of the commander of the brand new SG-17. Sam reached within the man's shirt and pulled out his tags, tugging on the chain until it released the slim pieces of metal into her shaking hand. Her fingers closed around them and she felt the raised letters and numbers, a short definition of his life in her hand. Sam folded the dog-tags into a pocket on her vest, pushed to her knees, and grabbed her weapon before limping her way across the room to the last place she'd seen Ren'Al.

Only the upper half of the woman could be seen beneath the mound of rubble. Sam knelt next to the dead Tok'ra and gently rolled her onto her back, taking a moment to study Ren'Al's serene face in the dim light. She'd also been a warrior, and for far longer than Mansfield and herself put together. Gritting her teeth against the pull and ache of her sore muscles, Sam reached into the Tok'ra's tunic and slid out the smooth, unharmed memory crystal the scientist had secreted there, knowing that the formula for the poison that was encoded on it would be just as important to any Tok'ra survivors as Mansfield's dog-tags were to his family.

Clamping her teeth together, Sam glanced around the room, noticing that a spray of light filtering through a breach in the tunnel to her left illuminated Lt. Elliot's unconscious face. No, not Elliot, she groaned to herself. His first mission – she could still see how excited he was in the 'gate room that morning. She climbed over the rubble, her limbs heavy with exhaustion and dread. She crouched there, unwilling to touch him, to find out if the young man had survived.

"Lieutenant?" she whispered.

The young airman's eyes snapped open – and glowed.

"Oh my God." Sam sat back on her heels. There was a Tok'ra symbiote inside Elliot. Ren'Al's? Did hers abandon its host when she was mortally wounded? Another thought sent goose bumps creeping along her skin and she turned quickly, feeling almost as if someone was standing right behind her. The symbiote tank was dark and empty, the glass broken into pieces. "Lantash."

The voice that barely groaned from the young airman's mouth had the familiar echoing tones of human/symbiote blending. "I had no choice."

Sam held onto her dread with both hands. "Elliot?"

"I'm afraid his injuries are severe. There is serious internal damage. It's going to take all my strength just to keep him alive." His mouth hung open, his chest rising and falling quickly as he struggled for each breath. "He'll have to speak for both of us." Eyes fluttered closed for too long a moment.

Sam's eyes widened in sympathy. One remaining member of SG-17. One. Even with all of the training, all of the briefings on past missions, on catastrophes both personal and global barely averted, how could the young airman have dreamed that he'd be facing crippling injuries and the invasion of his body by a parasitical alien his first time through the 'gate? She reached out and placed her hand gently on his cheek, thumb stroking slowly but firmly.

When the same eyes opened a moment later, Sam saw the change, saw the rapidly escalating panic. "Major?"

She set her teeth and made her face into a mask of encouragement and confidence. "Elliot. It's going to be okay."

"If you say so," he whimpered, his gaze flicking back and forth, his body shivering with reaction.

Sam kept the connection, continuing to brush her fingers against his cold cheek, trying to ground the frightened young man. "Believe me, I know. The symbiote's trying to heal you."

"Okay." Elliot swallowed hard and nodded, but stark terror shone in his eyes.

"Okay." Carter tried a quick smile, but remembering the soul-deep violation that thundered through her body when Jolinar pushed her way into the back of her throat she knew it was not enough. Elliot was on the verge of shock, both mentally and physically. She had to do something to help him get a handle on this before his reaction pushed him over the edge. "I know it doesn't feel okay, I know it's the scariest feeling in the world," she added, "but you're hurt, and you need to try to find a way to be okay with this, just for right now." She held his gaze, trying to will some calmness into him. "We're in trouble here, Elliot, and we're going to need you and Lantash, the symbiote inside you, if we're going to have a hope of getting out of this."

She watched the muscles in the airman's face tighten as he focused inward. "Lantash," he muttered. His wide eyes glazed over and his breathing deepened, the withdrawn expression that settled over him familiar. The silent dialogue between host and symbiote was so personal, so intimate, that there was no way to accurately describe it to someone who had never experienced the blending. Sam waited patiently, realizing that her words of comfort would do little to ease Elliot's fear compared with Lantash's more immediate explanation. Her fingers lingered along the pulse in the airman's neck, feeling it strengthen and slow as the unvoiced communication continued and she sighed, letting some of her own tension go.

"He's –" Elliot tried to wet his dry lips with an even dryer tongue and Sam hurriedly groped for her canteen and let a few drops fall into his mouth. "He's hurt, too," he finally finished. "He says he's sorry, sorry that I'm so afraid of him, sorry that he isn't able to heal me quickly." The light eyes brightened and stared a question at the woman crouching over him. "Major - he seems so sad."

Sam felt the tears gather, but blinked them away rapidly. Lantash had lost so much – his mate, his host – so many others over the long span of his life. This was the reason she was still drawn to the Tok'ra, why she could listen when Col. O'Neill turned a deaf ear, instantly suspicious of even the most harmless contact. Even with all the plotting, the second-class citizen status of unblended humans, the emphasis on preserving the symbiotes at all cost, Lantash felt Elliot's distress and worried about the human's reaction to his presence. He could – and would - suppress the highly evolved drive to survive, to find and take a host; if and when Elliot was healed at the symbiote's expense, Lantash would give the human the final say and leave an unwilling host, even if it meant sentencing himself to death.

"He just wants to help you, lieutenant," she assured him.

Elliot nodded. "I guess I get that – a little."

Sam's smile was much warmer now. "Think you can let me check you over?" At his second nod she shifted the rubble away from the airman's body, struggling to lift the larger pieces to avoid further injury. She rested a moment to take a mouthful of water and to let another few sips dribble past Elliot's lips before concentrating on his injuries. His arms and legs were whole, no breaks there, but his breath caught when her hands ran down over his chest and abdomen and she felt the warmth and distension there even through his uniform. Carefully brushing her fingers over his skull she kept her face still as the area just behind his left temple moved inward under her gentle touch. Abdominal bleeding. Skull fracture. Possible cerebral hemorrhage. Lantash must be suppressing the pain somehow.

"Carter, report." Her radio crackled, dust choking off the colonel's voice.

Sam brushed one hand through Elliot's hair in silent support before reaching for her left shoulder. "Carter here. Lt. Elliot and I are still in the lab. Sir, there's been extensive tunnel damage in our area."

"Roger that." O'Neill's voice was hushed. "See if you can make your way towards the secondary ring room. We'll meet up on the way."

Sam's gaze lingered on the injured man lying motionless at her feet, wondering how far he would make it.

"I'll make it, Major." Elliot read the momentary hesitation in her response correctly. He shifted his weight onto his hip and curled his legs beneath him, ready to try.

"Understood, sir," Sam acknowledged, releasing the button on her radio abruptly as Elliot's head sagged forward onto his chest. She positioned herself next to him and quickly drew one arm over her shoulders. "Ready?" she asked, putting every ounce of confidence in her voice.

"Yeah," Elliot sighed, trying to take some of his own weight as Carter all but dragged him upright.

Sam held tightly to Elliot's belt with her left hand and clutched his wrist with her right, taking a few hesitant steps towards the tunnel that led south from the ruined lab. Their shuffling progress led them past Major Mansfield's battered body and Sam knew the moment Elliot noticed his commander lying amid the rubble. She paused.

The young man's words would have been inaudible if she had not been so close. "I guess Col. O'Neill was wrong about 'no action.'"

She waited until Elliot made a first hesitant movement away from the body, then strengthened her grip and moved on.

By the time she caught sight of the colonel and Teal'c in the distance, Carter's back and arms were cramping from her tight hold on the injured man.

"Carter?"

She caught her breath as Teal'c hurried to Elliot's side, sliding one large hand around the airman's upper arm and relieving her of some of his weight. "The ceiling in the lab collapsed, sir, Ren'Al and Major Mansfield are dead," she reported, the words tumbling over each other as she tried to hurry through the awful truth.

"As is Aldwin," Teal'c added quickly.

"Elliot's in rough shape, there's a Tok'ra symbiote inside him."

The colonel looked stunned, his dark eyes snapping to Elliot's pale young face. "What?"

"It feels very weird, sir." Close to unconsciousness, Elliot's head seemed to dangle on his neck.

Something was going on behind the colonel's eyes – he couldn't seem to tear them away from the young airman's battered body, but Sam didn't have the strength to question it. "Lantash." Carter bit down on her weariness, fighting for the emotional control that her military training had instilled in her. She needed it to survive, so that she could utilize her skills to help get her team out of this. "He's keeping him alive."

She could see the same fight for control on her CO's face – a mixture of anger and loss momentarily overwhelming his usual under-fire discipline, but a burst of staff weapon fire suddenly sounded too close and the four froze. The colonel dragged his gaze away from Elliot's face reluctantly. "Let's take our chances on the surface," he snapped and turned to lead his team back down the tunnel to the exit. Sam took a deep breath and followed, afraid to hope that their struggle was almost over.

Summit – No Safety

Daniel stopped and pressed his back against the wall of the corridor, working to settle his nerves, trying to still the shivering that had begun as the adrenaline drained from his system with each step he took away from Lord Yu and the horrible scene he'd just escaped, leaving him light-headed with the sudden and violent urge to heave up everything in his stomach. He shook his head back and forth relentlessly, hoping somehow the movement would shake his thoughts into some kind of order.

What was he doing?

He checked the hallway and then resumed his journey to Yu's quarters, only managing to slow his steps slightly from his previous head-long flight. Yu had almost- Daniel pushed the mental image firmly to the back of his mind. The Goa'uld had been angry, angry enough to force Daniel to _serve him_ there in the council chamber before Ba'al called him away. At least the other System Lords and their lo'taurs were too busy, Daniel shuddered, to be prowling the corridors, so he'd have a few minutes to think, to regroup. And to communicate with Jacob.

Jacob was going to be pissed. Daniel's orders were to use the poison as soon as the surprise guest arrived within the council chamber – and he'd been ready to, he'd psyched himself up to play the assassin, to start the Tok'ra down their intended path of mass murder as the symbiote poison was released to destroy Goa'uld, host, and Jaffa alike throughout the galaxy. No one cared if thousands died, tens of thousands even, and Daniel had the capsule in his hand, his finger poised above the trigger to begin the slaughter. He'd be the only one to witness the death throes of the victims.

But one familiar voice, one human face had changed everything.

Imagining the deaths of thousands of faceless Jaffa had been enough to cause deep wounds to Daniel's conscience, a conscience that had once been spoken of with respect and high esteem within the halls of the SGC. Those days were far behind him. He clenched his teeth and swerved his thinking away from those deep ruts he'd worn in his psyche and back towards his lack of action just a few moments ago. No, even the thought of trying to explain the indiscriminate killing of Jaffa to his warrior brother had not stopped his hand, so why had the human shell of one one-time lover?

The door to Yu's quarters ground down behind him, and Daniel knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He paced, allowing his nervous energy a release now that he was behind closed doors. His gaze roved over the lush furnishings of the room but saw nothing, and he raised the Tok'ra communicator. "Jacob," he snapped.

"What's the delay? They should all be there by now."

It must all seem so simple from the deck of the cloaked tel'tac. "Yeah, we've got a full house, but…" he struggled for the right words, "there's been a complication."

"Daniel?" Jacob's one word demanded an explanation.

He sighed. "Sarah's here."

After a second's pause, Jacob seemed to have put it all together. "Sarah? You mean Osiris."

Daniel grimaced. Yes, Osiris, the Goa'uld who had been cast into oblivion by his brother, Seth, was an unexpected guest at the summit of the System Lords. But he had dragged along an unwilling human, Sarah Gardner, and she was more surely an innocent captive of the Goa'uld than anyone residing in a cell or on a slave planet out there in the galaxy.

"Did she recognize you?"

Facing into Yu's quarters, Daniel felt the tension in every muscle and swallowed past the soreness of his throat where Yu had grabbed him. He understood the consequences of his choice, he'd been going through the 'gate for five years now and yet many still viewed him as the same long-haired, wide-eyed innocent who didn't realize he was married until Sha're took him to bed. Yes, he was out of his depth here, but they were the ones who'd thrown him into the water. "I don't know," he stated honestly. "I think so, but she didn't tip her hand and I don't know why," he admitted.

The grating sound of the large door rising spun Daniel on his heels. Dammit! Was Yu coming to finish what he'd started in the council chamber? No, of course not, he nodded to himself. He just wasn't that lucky. It was her: Osiris – Sarah – he hid the communicator behind his back, but he'd never felt more completely exposed standing there dressed in the thin disguise of Yu's slave. It was almost as if he stood naked before her, the feral smile of a predator turning Sarah's face into something less than human.

"Daniel Jackson," Osiris purred in that thick double rasp. "You're rather a long way from home, aren't you?"

The Tok'ra, the SGC, Hammond, Jack, they'd sent him here as the hunter, armed with only his hard-won understanding of the Goa'uld and a weapon that might be a preemptive strike in a centuries old conflict. But all the scheming of the Tok'ra or the political posturing of Earth's government still left Daniel alone against the vicious Goa'uld who'd beaten Steven nearly to death and would have gladly murdered him with his ribbon device, and was now wearing the brilliant woman he once loved like a costume. And here, alone with her, Daniel was the prey.

Summit – Hopes Collapse

The three made halting progress along the Tok'ra tunnels, retracing Teal'c and the colonel's steps towards the rings and escape to the surface. Elliot sagged between Carter and the Jaffa, hardly able to shuffle one foot in front of the other. Another tremor hit and O'Neill let the others go ahead, moving towards the rear to make sure no Jaffa were on their tail. The blast that ripped through the air almost directly over their heads surprised them all, and they watched helplessly as the roof of the tunnel shook loose, dropping huge chunks of rock and crystal directly in their path. Teal'c shifted towards Major Carter, attempting to shield her and the injured man between them from any stray debris. When the smoke cleared he leaned Elliot's body to lie securely within Sam's hold and moved forward, his eyes slitted against the dust that hung in the air. When he turned back, his expression was grim.

"The tunnel is blocked," he stated simply.

Sam clutched tightly at Elliot's body. "Does Lantash know if there's another way to the secondary ring room?"

"There isn't," the airman whispered.

Teal'c stood solidly amidst the rubble. "Then indeed we are trapped."

End – to be continued in **Letting Go** which will deal with the events during and after _Last Stand_.


End file.
